


Judgment in Reverse

by cleflink



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Magic, Jensen is awesome, M/M, Paperwork, Rebellion, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleflink/pseuds/cleflink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world governed by order and logic, Jensen is a square peg in a round hole: the only person whose government-mandated prophecies are never right. When he receives a prophecy that he can't fake, however; he finds himself caught up in something that's much bigger than he realized. Something that threatens to rewrite everything he thinks he knows about the world. Something that threatens to topple the very foundations of his society.</p><p>Something that just might be magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com)'s 2015 round. The title is a reference to the [Judgement Tarot Card](http://www.psychic-revelation.com/reference/q_t/tarot/tarot_cards/judgment_reversed.html).

It was Jensen's birthday in six and a half hours.

Just the thought made him want to be him sick.

"For fuck's sake, Jen." The couch thudded back against the wall as Chris appeared from some random pocket of reality - probably the kitchen - and flung himself down on it. "Out with it already."

Jensen blinked at him, fighting to keep the slightest flicker of panic off his face at Chris' words. "Out with what?"

"Whatever's got you looking miserable enough to make the people at the funeral home feel bad about themselves. Your dick finally wither and fall off from lack of use?"

Jensen punched him on the arm. "Fuck off. There's nothing wrong with my dick - _or_ how much I use it. Jackass."

Chris' expression made it very clear that he thought Jensen was full of shit, but was going to be nice enough not to call him on it. For once. "Then what's with the face? We're here to celebrate your birthday, not that someone ran over your puppy."

Jensen's stomach twisted at the reminder. "Maybe I'm mourning the loss of my youth," he suggested, with as much levity as he could muster. "You ever think of that?"

Chris snorted. "Don't worry princess, you're still the prettiest. You're also avoiding the question." 

"Remind me again why we're friends?" Jensen asked. "Because all I can figure is momentary insanity brought on by massive brain trauma when we were in high school."

"Jensen," Chris said, in a serious tone of voice that Jensen rarely heard from his irreverent friend. "You've been jumpier than a cat in a sack for weeks. What's wrong?"

For a moment, Jensen honestly considered telling him. Chris was a good man, beneath all the jackassery, and if there was anyone Jensen could trust with his secret, it would probably be him. And it would be nice to have someone to confess to, even if it was far too late to change anything at this point.

But nearly two decades of caution held his tongue.

"S'nothing," Jensen said, deliberately gruff. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck in what Chris would recognize as a self-conscious gesture and glanced away. "Just not looking forward to my debrief at the Ministry, is all."

Chris' eyes lit up with gleeful amusement, all trace of seriousness forgotten. "You got an embarrassing prophecy? This I gotta hear!"

"Keep dreaming," Jensen said, doing his best to sound disgruntled. "It's bad enough having to tell some office grunt; no way am I gonna give you that kind of ammunition."

Chris clutched dramatically at his heart. "You wound me! As if I'd tell people your embarrassing prophecy."

Jensen wordlessly arched an eyebrow.

"Spoilsport," Chris said good-naturedly. He leaned back into the couch and gave Jensen an understanding grin. "It's really not worth getting worked up over, you know. Everyone gets embarrassing prophecies sometimes. Did I ever tell you about the year I had to admit to breaking my leg after jumping out a window while drunk off my ass?"

"Repeatedly," Jensen said dryly. "Because you don't even know what shame is."

Chris waved a careless hand. "The point is that the people at the Ministry don't care: they're professionals. They've heard it all by now."

Jensen thought about what was written in the prophecy locked in his desk drawer and very much doubted that.

"Which _means_ , you should quit your worrying already and try to have some fun. You've got tomorrow off, so live it up while you can!"

Jensen summoned up a smile. "Sounds like you just offered to get me another beer," he said, because Chris was more right than he realized. Jensen should make the most of tonight.

He was pretty sure it was going to be his last, after all.

Most people, Jensen knew, saw debriefing at the Ministry of Future Affairs as little more than a formality. A government hoop to jump through to earn a day off work and an obscurely worded preview of what the coming year would bring. It could be a little awkward, sure, especially if last year's prophecy had been resolved in an embarrassing way, but it was no different from any of the other myriad legal requirements of living in civilized society.

Jensen envied them all so very much.

March 1 dawned with what Jensen considered to be an entirely inappropriate amount of sun. A freak thunderstorm would have been much more in keeping with how Jensen's day was going to go.

Spared of the need to run off to work by virtue of his mandatory birthday vacation day, Jensen lay for a time in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to have a panic attack. He'd known this was coming since he'd first seen this year's prophecy and yet, somehow, it seemed like only yesterday that he'd read those damning words. Now that it was here, Jensen wasn't ready. 

He didn't think he'd ever be ready.

Eventually, Jensen dragged himself out of bed and got washed and dressed. His appointment wasn't for a few hours yet, and he intended to spend the time until then saying goodbye to his family. Not that they would realize that that's what he was doing. 

First up was breakfast with his parents. 

"You're looking awfully pale, sweetie," his mom said, as she shoveled a truly daunting stack of pancakes onto his plate. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine," Jensen said, with what he considered to be passable ease. He dredged up a sheepish grin. "I was over at Chris' last night, so…"

"Ah," she said, in the tone of all-knowing mothers the world over. "So you're saying something greasy would have been better?"

Jensen shook his head. "Nothing better than your pancakes," he said firmly, both because it was true and because it wasn't like he was going to get another opportunity to suck up.

His mom ruffled his hair before sitting down. Silence reigned briefly as they tucked into breakfast.

"So, anything interesting in your prophecy this year?" his dad asked idly.

"Same old, same old," Jensen said, with hardly a pause. "Vacation and a salary raise. Still no boyfriend."

"It's good to hear you thinking about settling down," his mom said, just as Jensen had known she would. Give her something nice to believe.

"Yeah, well," he said. "M'not getting any younger."

Jensen's dad coughed, a little awkwardly. "Well, there's always next year."

Jensen nodded, keeping his eyes down. "Here's hoping. So, how're things at the gardening club?"

The rest of breakfast went pretty much the same as it always did - namely, Jensen ate while his parents filled him in on the myriad activities they'd become involved in since being retired from their jobs. 

After saying goodbye to his parents, it was back home to video call his brother on his lunch break. Josh only had enough time in his daily budget for a fifteen minute call, which kept things short and sweet.

"You manage to arrange time to talk to Mac?" Josh asked, as their conversation was winding down.

Jensen shook his head. "She's in midterms right now. Couldn't requisition family time until the weekend."

Josh shrugged "Not much of a surprise. Oh, hey, you doing anything tomorrow night? A couple of the guys are coming over to watch the game, if you're interested."

Jensen had very deliberately not made plans for tomorrow evening. Or any evening after that. "I'll keep you posted," he said, and took another swallow of beer to wash down the lie.

"Cool." A burst of sound crashed through the speakers and Jensen watched as Josh looked over his shoulder at someone in his office door. "Yeah, Okay. Thanks, Tish. Duty calls, little brother," he said then, turning back to the screen. "Catch you later."

"Yeah," Jensen said, and ended the call before his expression could break.

After that, Jensen mostly sat around and breathed until it was time to catch the bus into the downtown core. 

The bus arrived exactly on time, just like always, and Jensen took a seat, watching the identical faces of the buildings blur through the window as they joined the traffic. The trip took exactly 23 minutes, and Jensen and a handful of other people got off the bus in front of the Ministry of Future Affairs.

"Happy Birthday," the bus driver said to each of them as they got off, and Jensen managed to scrape together a smile in response. 

The Ministry of Future Affairs was a tasteful monument to efficiency made of glass and stone, located in a towering building just down the street from the Capitol building. Jensen paused for a moment on the meticulously groomed front lawn, letting the others March Firsters go ahead of him. One of the city clocks turned towards him, black camera eyes peering at him out of the round face: a reminder both of the time and the fact that the government didn't approve of dallying. Jensen took a deep breath and marched towards the building. It wouldn't do to be late.

Jensen walked through the immense doors at 2:53pm, just enough time to check in. He pulled his Birthday Appointment S1 form out of his bag and joined the back of the line of people waiting to see the receptionist. 

"Happy Birthday," she said, when it was Jensen's turn. The most optimistic person on the planet couldn't have found any actual warmth or sincerity in that voice. Her hand stretched out expectantly. "Paperwork please."

Dutifully passing over the form, Jensen waited while she fed it into the computer. To one side, he could see a young man in the 'incorrect filing' line, worry creasing his entire face. 

Jensen shook his head. Everyone filled their paperwork in incorrectly sometimes, but this boy ought to have taken more care with an S1 form. The Procedural Infractions Department always came down harder on errors in major paperwork. He wondered absently if this was the boy's first time receiving a prophecy; he looked to be a few years older than 16, but appearances could be deceiving. 

"Everything is in order. Please take a seat, Mr. Ackles," the receptionist said tonelessly, and Jensen nodded before stepping quickly away from the desk. Interacting with Ministry staff always gave him the creeps, so he liked to do as little of it as possible. 

Jensen had barely sat down when the clock ticked over to 3pm and a man with close-cropped hair and a craggy face stepped into reception. "Mr. Ackles?"

"That's me." Jensen stood and reached out for a handshake.

"Frederic Lehne," the man introduced himself. His grip was firm. "Happy Birthday. Follow me please."

Wordlessly, Jensen fell into step and followed Lehne into the labyrinthine hallways of the Ministry. Even after all the years he'd been coming for his annual debriefs, Jensen still had no faith in his ability to get back to reception unaided. Good thing he'd already given up on the idea of running.

In short order, he was led into a quiet room with a potted plant in the corner and a geometric-patterned rug under the table. He sat down at a wave from Lehne's hand.

"Um," he started, because there was no choice but to be up front about this. "About my prophecy-"

“Not to worry, Mr. Ackles,” Lehne said, in a professionally pleasant voice. He sat down at the table across from Jensen and pulled out a pen. “You must be used to the routine by now. We'll just spend a few minutes documenting the resolution of your last prophecy and you can receive this year’s from one of the Tellers as soon as we're finished here.”

Jensen twisted his fingers together in his lap, fighting for calm. This was it. An entire year spent trying to figure out what excuse he could possibly use to explain this away and Jensen was just as stumped now as he had been when he first saw the printout of what the government Tellers had predicted for his future.

He was so fucked.

“Actually,” Jensen said, cursing the stammer in his voice. “I think I might have gotten someone else’s prophecy last year, or something.”

“It’s alright to be embarrassed by how a prophecy was resolved,” Lehne said. The smooth, polished way he said it made it clear that it was something people needed to hear from him often. He flashed a smile. “We've all got prophecies that we don't like to talk about. It's not my place to judge."

Jensen huffed, trying to sound frustrated and confused instead of terrified out of his fucking wits. “It’s not embarrassing; it’s wrong. My prophecy was wrong.”

Lehne’s smile was insultingly patronizing. “Now, Mr. Ackles, you know that can’t happen.” He flipped open the folder with Jensen’s name on it and picked up the top piece of paper. “Now, let’s see what y-“

His voice trailed off and Jensen was careful not to squirm when shocked eyes flew up to stare at him over the damning paper.

"See what I mean?" Jensen asked.

"I-" Lehne swallowed and set down the prophecy with careful deliberation. “If you’ll give me a moment, Mr. Ackles, I believe I need to contact my supervisor.”

“Great,” Jensen said, and slumped down further into his chair. His hair fell across his eyes and he brushed it irritably away. “I’m going to be here all day at this rate.”

_Keep cool_ , he told himself, while Lehne practically ran out of the room. _Be calm. Don’t give them any reason to think you're hiding something._

The truth was that Jensen didn't know what was going to happen to him, but he knew that any chance he had of surviving this - slim though it may be - would be lost if they suspected for a moment that an incorrect prophecy wasn't an anomaly for him. 

Because government-issued prophecies always, always, always came true.

For everyone except Jensen, that is.

Jensen glared at the offending piece of paper that was the cause of all this grief. Why, oh why, couldn’t it have been a cryptic one? Some prophecies were so obtuse as to hardly qualify as English; he could have made something up to explain it, surely. But a year's worth of thinking hadn't been enough to come up with a plausible alternate resolution to this prophecy. It was just too damn straightforward.

From where he was sitting, Jensen couldn't read the single, neatly typed sentence on the page, but it hardly mattered. Seven simple words; they'd been burned into his brain the moment he'd seen them and realized that, this time, he wasn't going to be able to talk himself out of whatever happened to people whose prophecies were wrong.

_This year_ , Jensen's prophecy read. _You are going to die._

The longest ten minutes of Jensen's life passed before the door swung open again, this time on a dark-haired woman in a navy blue suit with her hair pulled back into a severe ponytail.

"Thank you for waiting," she said. "My name is Lindsey McKeon."

"Hi." Jensen stayed where he was, waiting to see how best to play this. He had no desire to be dragged away kicking and screaming if there was an option for a more dignified exit, although he wasn't taking it off the table yet.

McKeon sat at the table and looked down at the file folder. At the damning prophecy on top.

Jensen braced himself.

"Mr. Ackles," she said. "I'm so sorry for the error in your prophecy."

Later, Jensen would have no idea how he managed to keep from giving the game away right then and there. Somehow, he throttled down his complete shock and offered her a passably calm, "So you admit that there's been a mistake."

She nodded. "One of our Teller machines developed a fault last spring." Her smile was plastic and utterly unconvincing. A corner of Jensen's mind that wasn't blank with shock wondered if the government trained its employees to act like robots. "Unfortunately, a few citizens received prophecies from this machine before the issue was dealt with."

"Including me," Jensen said, and tried not to wince when it came out as more of a question than a statement. 

McKeon nodded. "We apologize for any trouble this error has caused. And for what has undoubtedly been a very stressful year."

Jensen made a sound sort of like agreement, his mind racing. How could this be real? He'd never heard of a Teller machine giving incorrect prophecies. But what reason would she have to lie? They had him dead to rights. Why wasn't he being carted off right now?

"Do you have any questions?" McKeon asked. 

Jensen bit back a hysterical laugh as he tried to think of something safe to ask.

"Mr. Ackles?"

"How-" Jensen cleared his throat and tried again. "How is this going to appear in my file?"

"Mechanical error," McKeon said. After a quick rifle through the folder, she produced a familiar-looking form. "Here's your A7183 form for completing this year's debrief," she said, sliding the paper across the table. 

"Just like that?" Jensen asked, baffled. "I thought, I mean… prophecies _can't_ be wrong. And you're still going to keep it in my file?"

"There's no need to worry, Mr. Ackles. Even a perfect system can have a blip every now and then. I'll need you to sign here and here," she continued, a pen appearing as if by magic in her hand.

In a daze, Jensen took the pen. His hands were shaking. McKeon didn't seem to notice anything amiss as Jensen scrawled a wobbly rendition of his signature and handed it back. 

"Thank you, Mr. Ackles. And here's your blue Teller services requisition form. If you bring both of these up to the front, the receptionist will get you added to the queue." She stood, gathering up all the papers in his file before heading for the door.

"Thanks," Jensen said dumbly.

"Just doing my job. Oh." She paused with one hand on the doorknob and Jensen froze halfway out of his chair. "The Ministry would ask you to keep this little mix-up to yourself." The empty smile made another appearance; this one sent a wary shiver down Jensen's spine. "It wouldn't do to start worrying people, now would it?"

"Of course," Jensen said, because he wasn't an idiot.

"Thank you. If you'll follow me, please. Mr. Ackles." She smiled at him. "And Happy Birthday."

Twenty minutes later, Jensen was outside on the front lawn of the building with a new prophecy clutched like a lifeline in his shaking hands and no idea what had just happened.

Jensen had settled into a numb sort of shock by the time he got back to his housing complex. He'd read his new prophecy on the bus ride home - no predictions of death this year, thank fuck - and he locked it in his bedroom drawer on autopilot. Once that was done, he went into the kitchen and, very deliberately, poured himself a stiff drink.

The restraint that had been holding him together cracked open along with his first, desperate swallow. His profound relief escaped in a nervous giggle that soon morphed into an almost frantic laughter that went on long enough that Jensen would have committed himself if he'd been watching from the outside. 

"Fucking hell," he managed finally, tears leaking from his eyes and his whole body trembling with shaky aftershocks. "I can't believe that worked."

Honestly, it shouldn't have. Jensen had tried to remain optimistic, but, deep down, he'd been able to admit to himself that this was the end of the line. Because there was no room in a society built on order and efficiency for people who didn't fit the mold. 

And the government was very good at making sure of it.

It wasn't overt. The police force didn't go around breaking down doors in the middle of the night or gunning people down in the street. In fact, all Jensen knew - all anyone knew - was that some people just… vanished. No muss, no fuss. It wasn't a regular occurrence by any stretch of the imagination, but everyone knew at least one person who'd been there one day and gone the next.

For Jensen, it had been the older sister of a boy from school. Jensen's father had described her as a square peg in a round hole. Jensen had never learned exactly what it was about her that hadn't fit - perhaps she had refused to get a job, or she'd been late to work once too often - but it had hardly mattered. Square pegs were dangerous, his father told him, and so the government took care of them. Best to leave it at that.

Which Jensen hadn't understood at the time, but had come to appreciate a great deal since then. Especially once he'd got his first prophecy and realized that he was himself the very definition of a square peg.

Which was why he'd spent his entire adult life coming up with the most convincing fake resolutions to his prophecies that he could manage. The consequences of the government discovering the truth didn't bear thinking about.

But what was he supposed to think now that his secret had been exposed in the most undeniable way possible and he was still alive?

Jensen couldn't bring himself to believe that a mechanical fault had anything to do with it. That was too convenient. But then why had the Ministry let him go?

"Fuck it," Jensen decided, downing the rest of his glass. "Nothing I can do about it now."

Which wouldn't stop him from jumping at every shadow between now and whenever the catch showed up, but he'd deal.

After all these years, he was getting good at that.

Three slightly paranoid weeks later, the catch showed up. In the mail at work, to be precise.

"What's that?" Genevieve asked, pausing by Jensen's desk to gesture at the form in his hands. She leaned in to read the top of the page. "A 637C Recall Form? What for?"

Jensen, who'd been staring at the thing in resigned horror for longer than was probably wise in a public place, set it deliberately down and turned a vaguely irritated frown on Genevieve.

"Dunno," he said easily. He'd had a lot of practice at casual in his life. "Probably someone forgot to dot the 'I's and cross the 'T's on my A7183 so they need me to come and sign another one. Because I clearly haven't got anything better to do."

Genevieve swatted him, grinning. "They're not that bad. Don't be such a downer."

"Your completely irrational desire to think the best of people is a source of constant delight for me, I hope you know."

"Stuff it. You're just a pessimist. What time have you got to be there?"

Jensen glanced at the clock in his cubicle. "43 minutes."

"Plenty of time to stop for a quick lunch on the way. Go on," she said. "I'll cover for you."

And Jensen had to smile despite the way his stomach was tying itself in knots. "Thanks, Gen."

"Don't mention it." She stood to one side so that Jensen could get up, and Jensen fought to keep his expression neutral as he tucked the summons in his briefcase and logged out of his computer for the last time.

"See you," he said, for want of anything better to say.

"Hey, Jensen," Genevieve called after him, and Jensen turned back to see her smiling kindly. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Yeah," he said, after a moment. "I'm sure you're right."

The very idea of food made Jensen want to hurl, so he forwent eating lunch in favour of sitting down on a bench not far from the Ministry of Future Affairs and trying very hard to think of nothing at all. Besides, having street meat as his last meal was possibly the only thing that could make this situation more depressing.

When the clocks ticked over to 1:26pm, Jensen stood, clutching his briefcase with white-knuckled hands.

"Courage," he told himself, which was a total waste of breath that did nothing to prevent his legs from shaking as he walked into the building and up to the reception desk. Dimly, Jensen was impressed when he managed to hand over his recall form without his hand shaking, though he suspected that his face was pale enough to put paid to any idea that he wasn't sweating straight through his very expensive suit.

His nerves weren't helped by the fact that, instead of telling Jensen to take a seat in the waiting area, the receptionist himself stood up.

"Follow me," he said, stepping away from the desk as another person appeared from nowhere to replace him. 

Jensen swallowed hard and did as he was told.

Jensen was guided through the hallways, well past the parts of the building that he recognized from a lifetime of Tellings and debriefs. They walked for what felt like an eternity. He was just beginning to entertain images of being thrown into a hidden dungeon deep in the bowels of the building when his guide stopped in front of a non-descript door.

He opened the door to reveal a room that wasn't much bigger than Jensen's closet, furnished with two chairs and a plain white table. There were no windows. 

Jensen had officially moved past nervous and straight into freaked out.

"Wait here," the man said, without inflection. "Someone will be with you shortly."

"Thanks," Jensen said, and then it was just him and the nearly-empty room. The latch clicked quietly as the receptionist shut the door and, left without anything better to do, Jensen sat down. The clock on the wall tilted to look at him.

He wasn't kept waiting long.

Hardly a minute had passed before the door opened again, this time on a tower of a man in a perfectly tailored suit and the most boring tie known to mankind. 

The guy shut the door behind him, turned, and looked Jensen straight in the eyes. "Come with me if you want to live."

Jensen's heart stopped. 

"What?" he managed, after a too-long pause.

To his utter shock, the man's mouth quirked into a grin. "Eh, I'm just messing with you," he said, with an unexpected lightness that left Jensen reeling at the sudden attitude shift. "I've just always wanted to say that." 

"Oh," Jensen said, trying without success to convince his tense muscles to relax.

"Actually, it looks like this room was double-booked for this hour, so I'm hoping that you don't mind relocating."

Personally, Jensen would rather have run in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him, but he was still trying for some plausible denial here, so that wasn't the best option. He swallowed. "Okay."

"Sorry about trouble," the guy said smoothly, holding the door open for Jensen. 

"It's fine," Jensen said, because it wasn't like he had a whole lot of say in the matter in the first place.

The guy led the way down the hall and Jensen followed wordlessly after him.

"Here we go." The door opened on a room that looked identical to the one they'd just left, except for the conspicuous absence of the clock. Jensen didn't remember the last time he'd been in a room without a clock.

This day just kept getting worse.

"Come on, sit down." the guy followed his own advice and waved a hand at the other chair as he sat. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be done."

Jensen wished he could consider that a good thing. 

Once Jensen was settled, the guy held out a hand with a big, beaming smile that was almost more unsettling than the rest of the situation put together. Since when did government employees smile like they meant it? The man even had _dimples_ , for Christ's sake. "I'm Jared. And you must be Mr. Ackles."

"Must I?" Jensen couldn't help but ask. This whole debacle had him dangerously off-balance. "Just, it hasn't really been going so well for me today."

Jared chuckled. "I can see why you might think so. But I'm hoping that things are gong to start looking up for you from here on out, so you might want to stick with it for now."

"Does that mean I can leave?" Jensen asked, without much hope.

"Why, you sick of my company already?" Jared sighed dramatically. "The trials of being a government drone: everyone's always much happier to see you leave."

Jensen said nothing, not sure what his line was supposed to be. He wasn't used to government officials going off-script.

"Well then," Jared said. He looked Jensen square in the face. "Do you know why you're here, Mr. Ackles?" 

It was a dangerous question. 

"I received a 637C Recall Form?" Jensen tried.

Jared made an encouraging sound. "And why do you think you received a recall summons?"

"I don't-"

"Just give it your best try, Mr. Ackles. It's not a test."

_Oh, really?_ Jensen wanted to ask, but didn't dare. No matter how not-normal this Jared was, he was still a government employee, just like the rest of them. Maybe they were trying to lull him into a false sense of security. 

Arranging his face into an expression of mild confusion, Jensen shrugged. "If I had to guess, I'd say that there was something in my birthday debrief that needs reviewing." He permitted himself a slight smile. "It was a bit… outside the norm this year."

Jared chuckled. "That's putting it lightly. You're absolutely right, of course." He looked down at the file folder in front of him. "Did you know that you're not the only person who received an incorrect prophecy last year?"

"I'm not?"

Jared shook his head. "Including yourself, there are 17 people who have received incorrect prophecies in the past year. All the same incorrect prophecy, as a matter of fact."

"R-really?" Jensen asked, fighting the urge to swallow around the nervousness in his throat. "This is a common thing, then?"

"Oh, not at all." Jared's eyes flicked away from his paperwork and up to Jensen's face. "In fact, this is the first time since the Teller system was implemented that we've had an error on this scale."

"Wow, uh. That's weird. The woman who did my debrief said that one of the Teller machines was faulty?" Jensen tried, more for the sake of having something to say than anything else. _Stop looking at me._

"Hmm, yes, she would have said that. Got to keep to the party line, you know." Jared took a deep breath and folded his large hands together over top of his folder. "The truth, however, is that there was no mechanical fault. This is the fault of something else. Or, more accurately, some _one_ else."

Jensen's breath caught in his throat. "W-why are you telling me this?" he asked, voice cracking despite his best efforts to sound calm. 

Jared tilted his head curiously. "Because you don't seem to know why you were issued a 637C."

"You still haven't told me that." 

"I'm getting to it. The Ministry of Future Affairs is currently treating this as a criminal investigation. It's a crime to interfere with the collection of government-mandated data, as you know." Jared shifted, slumping back in his chair like he didn't have a care in the world. "It's why you received a recall summons rather than having this whole mess dealt with during your birthday debrief. Our agents have spent the past three weeks going through all of your finances, your major paperwork and, especially, your prophecies."

"What for?"

Jared's smile was a thin, warning sort of thing. 

"They're trying to find out who's responsible for this error in the Teller system. And you, Mr. Ackles, are officially a suspect."


	2. Chapter 2

"What?" Jensen asked, a beat too slow to be believable. His heart was trying to beat right out of his chest. "That's ridiculous! I haven't done anything!"

Jared hummed thoughtfully. "Be that as it may, the Ministry believes in following every avenue of inquiry. This is a serious matter, after all."

"Don't I get to, to plead my case?"

"Now Mr. Ackles, surely you trust your government to find the truth?" Jared's expression was dangerously close to a smirk. Jensen fought the temptation to punch him.

Jensen huffed out a breath. "Of course I do. But you can't blame me for being concerned. I'm being accused of something that I haven't done!"

_Deny, deny, deny._

"We're simply following up. Every citizen with an invalid prophecy has undergone the same procedure."

"What are you even looking for?" Jensen asked.

Jared shrugged. "Financial anomalies, expertise in computer programming, a suspicious lack of concern over their incipient mortality, that sort of thing."

Jensen fought to keep from relaxing too obviously. If the government was looking for something out of the ordinary in just this year, Jensen wasn't going to raise any flags. Heck, he'd even made sure to act like someone who honestly believed that this was going to be his last year on Earth: he'd updated his Last Will and Testament, gone on a vacation that he really couldn't afford and started a fund for his funeral costs. Nothing suspicious there.

"Okay," Jensen said. "So is there a problem in my financials or any of that other stuff?"

It could have been his imagination, but Jensen thought that Jared looked amused at that. "Not at all. Everything looks good."

"Then…" Jensen left the word hanging, not wanting to seem too eager to get out of here.

"Not that it matters, of course. Because there is one further thing that needs to be done to clear you of suspicion." To Jensen's surprise, Jared sighed with what sounded like genuine regret. "And it will destroy the very essence of your being."

Wait, what?

Jensen blinked. "Come again?"

"I'm serious." Jared certainly looked serious. Jensen had to fight the urge to shy away from his intense gaze. "You're in terrible danger."

"I-if that was true, why would you tell me?" Jensen jabbed an accusing finger at Jared. "You work for the Ministry, in case you hadn't noticed."

A ghost of a smile curled the corner of Jared's mouth. "Perhaps. I'm not exactly the typical model though, am I?"

Jensen forced a scoff. "To throw me off balance. Best I can figure is that you're going to use anything I say against me."

"Which suggests that you do have something to hide, after all, doesn't it?" Jared said, sounding amused. Jensen glared at him. 

"Get to the point, already."

"The point is that I want to help you. You don't have to believe me," he added, probably at the expression on Jensen's face, "but it's the truth. I think we both know that under Ministry scrutiny is the last place you want to be."

"Me and everyone else," Jensen managed, fighting hard to sound nonchalant. 

"But you more than most, I should think. Which is why what's coming is so dangerous."

"What is it, then?" Jensen snapped. "Enough with the cryptic bullshit already. I get enough of that from the Teller machines."

Jared folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Tell me, Mr. Ackles, do you believe in magic?"

Jensen snorted. "What? Of course not."

"Really? Why not?"

"Uh, because there's no such thing? Why the hell are you asking?"

"It's relevant. Try to leave to the room."

"What?"

Jared waved towards the door. "I just want you to try and walk out the door. Nothing simpler." 

"Why?" Jensen asked, and earned an enigmatic smile in response.

"Consider it an object lesson."

Jensen eyed him sidelong. Jared didn't appear bothered by the scrutiny.

"Fine." Jensen shoved his chair back from the table and stalked over towards the door. "But I'd like a real answer somet-oof!"

His breath escaped in a rush as he walked head-first into something invisible but solid, blocking his path. "The heck?" Jensen raised both hands and felt his jaw drop when they flattened against what looked like empty air yet felt like solid steel against his palms. 

"Magic," Jared said behind him.

"Technology," Jensen countered, throwing a narrow look over his shoulder. "It's a force wall, like the ones protecting the city. You activated it once we both walked in."

"Then where's the apparatus?" Jared asked, gesturing to the blank walls. He was back to sounding amused, like he was privy to some joke that Jensen hadn't been let in on. "No wires, no nodes, nothing. Technology doesn't come from thin air, you know."

"I don't know how it works; I'm a legal advisor, not a programmer. And I'm not impressed." 

Letting his hands drop, Jensen turned to stalk back to his chair, only to find another force wall blocking his way. "Hey!" He tried to sidle around it, but found his way blocked again, and once again when he turned towards the far wall. There was no way back to the table or the door: he was trapped. "What have you done? Let me go!"

"It's not technology," Jared said calmly. "It's me." He lifted an eyebrow. "Want to see what I can do with it?"

"Don't-" Jensen started, only to lose the rest of his sentence in a startled curse when the walls started pressing closer, hemming him in until he felt like he was standing inside a narrow closet. Or a coffin. "Stop! Hey! Stop it!"

The invisible walls stopped encroaching, leaving Jensen trapped and squashed in the middle of the room. He could see the folds in his suit jacket where it was pressing against the invisible force. 

"Ever seen a force wall that could do that?" Jared asked. "I can do something else, if you're not convinced."

"So, you're saying that this is… magic?" Jensen asked, his breath coming short in the narrow confines of the space that Jared had trapped him in.

Jared nodded. "I am." He waved a negligent hand and Jensen nearly ended up on the floor when the walls surrounding him vanished abruptly. "And if you'll sit down again, I'll tell you why that matters to you."

A little shakily, Jensen did as he was told. 

"It's more common than you think," Jared said. "Magic, that is."

"Then why haven't I heard about it before now?"

"Because our entire society is built on a world without it." Something very much like anger glittered in Jared's eyes. "Can you imagine how much the government's beloved sense of 'order' would suffer if it became known that people like me can create wards with our minds?"

"Wards?" Jensen asked. "Is that what you call-" he gestured at the spot where he'd just been standing, letting the rest of the sentence trail off.

Jared nodded. "And it's not the only type of magic out there. Some of them are much more… disruptive than what I can do."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jensen couldn't help but ask. "I mean, if the government really is-" geez, it sounded fucking bonkers to say aloud "-anti-magic, aren't you putting yourself in danger by telling me?"

Unexpectedly, Jared grinned. He seemed to do that a lot, Jensen had noticed. "I might be, except it's a problem that we happen to share."

It took Jensen a long moment to process that. "Wait. You think… _I'm_ magic?"

"You've never had a prophecy come true, have you?" Jared asked, sudden and pointed.

Caught off guard, Jensen gaped at him. "I-I…"

"An omission is as damning as a confession," Jared said, almost gently.

"You're crazy!" Jensen burst out. He found himself on his feet again, leaning across the table into Jared's face. "None of this makes any sense!"

"It's a lot to take in, I know," Jared said, still calm. Jensen was getting rather sick of his calmness, truth be told. "Especially since your magic isn't as, hmm, obvious as mine. But you've always known that you're different, haven't you? You've done an amazing job to hide it as long as you have, and you probably could have kept it up forever, if not for that prophecy. Because it's put you on the Ministry's radar. And, no matter how clever you've been about this, that means you're out of time."

"Wh-" Jensen swallowed hard. "What are they going to do with me?"

"Same thing they've done to all the people who got that prophecy," Jared said. "Put you through Extraction."

Jensen fisted his hands to stop them trembling. "Which is?" He was almost proud of how smoothly it came out.

"It's a process that the government has developed to remove a person's magic."

"This all sounds too bizarre to be real," Jensen complained, and earned himself a rueful chuckle from Jared.

"It does, doesn't it? Like a comic book story or something." The amusement in Jared's smile didn't reach his eyes as he added, right in Jensen's ear, "I wish it was that simple."

Belatedly realizing just how close he was to Jared, Jensen sat back down with a shaky huff. "Extraction, huh? How does it work?"

"Sort of like draining blood from a wound," Jared said. Jensen blinked at him, uncomprehending, and Jared continued, "There's a bunch of technical and medical details that I won't go into, but suffice it to say that you get strapped into a machine that isolates the magic inside you and siphons it off."

"What happens if a person doesn't have any… magic?"

Jared shrugged. "Technically? Nothing." 

"Are you always this cryptic?" Jensen asked, in what was most definitely not a whine.

Jared's smile flashed briefly. "How would you describe the employees of the Ministry of Future Affairs? Aside from me."

Jensen made a face without meaning to. 

"Exactly," Jared said, with a nod. "Those people have all gone through Extraction."

"But… why?" Jensen demanded. "Why would anyone want to make people… like that?"

Jared sighed. "Because Extraction is very good at removing magic from a person, but it takes something fundamental to their identity along with it. And that's what left afterwards: a shadow of the person they used to be, just barely held together by bureaucracy and apathy."

"Fuck," Jensen said, shaken by the very thought.

"And _that's_ what's going to happen to you unless you come with me right now."

"Y-you said that most people are fine," Jensen said, licking his lips nervously.

"They are." Jared's expression was utterly serious. "But that's because they haven't got any magic to lose. And I think we both know that that isn't what your fate will be if you get into that machine."

Jensen said nothing, trying to adjust to the way his entire worldview had just been tipped on his head.

"I can get you out," Jared said, and now he was the one leaning across the table, still seated but tall enough that it didn't make much difference to how close he could get. "That's why I'm here. I'm part of a group that's trying to protect magic users, trying to _change_ this world for the better."

"Like terrorists?" Jensen asked.

A rueful grimace crossed Jared's face. "We prefer to think of ourselves as freedom fighters, but you wouldn't be completely wrong to call us that. Look, I can't promise that what comes next will be a picnic, but it beats what will happen if you don't get out."

It was too much to take in. "I-"

"Jensen," Jared said, and Jensen started at the use of his first name. "If you value your soul, I need you to trust me."

And, really, what choice did he have? Either Jared was telling the truth and Jensen had this one chance to grab a lifeline, or he was lying and Jensen was screwed anyway because he'd given too much away to play dumb now. And Jensen didn't trust people easily, but there was something about Jared that made him want to give it a try.

He wondered sourly if that was magic too. 

"Jensen?" Jared pressed. "I hate to rush you, but we're kind of short on time."

Jensen took a deep breath. "What do I need to do?" he asked.

A spark of something that could have been either triumph or relief flashed in Jared's eye. "We need to make this as convincing as possible." He shuffled his papers for a moment before pulling out a sheet and handing it over. "Give this form to the receptionist."

Jensen took the offered paper and looked at the number. "I've never even heard of a C32-7."

Jared's smile was grim. "They don't get used a lot. It'll buy us time, which is the main concern right now. Biggest thing is to act casual," he said. He slid a business card across the desk. "Once you're out of the building, you need to go to this address."

"Do I have time to go home first?" Jensen asked. Somewhere in the back of his head, a voice was screaming that he was being far too obliging about this whole situation, but Jensen didn't have time to listen to it right now.

A frown creased Jared's brow. "I wouldn't risk it. It will take some time to get a pursuit warrant for you, but not enough that I can guarantee you'll be able to avoid them. And your housing complex is the first place they'll be authorized to look."

"I'm never going to get my life back, am I?" Jensen asked sadly.

Jared's face creased with a strange mix of apology and regret. "Not until it's safe to do so, no."

"Safe for who? Me or you?"

"All of the above. I'm sorry, Jensen."

"It's fine," Jensen said, because he didn't have time to think about the fallout from this right now. "Anything else?"

Jared tapped at the card in Jensen's hands. "Just tell the first person who tries to stop you that I sent you. They'll take care of you. Oh, and don't bother trying to avoid the clocks; it'll just make you look suspicious."

"Aren't you worried me about leading people to your secret hideout?" Jensen asked.

Jared waved away his concern. "We've got it covered. Ready?"

Jensen's palms were sweating. It was an effort of will to keep from crumpling the form he was holding. "No?"

"That'll have to do." Jared stood and walked over to the door. "Come on. I'll take you back to reception."

Jensen still wasn't sure he wasn't about to be walked straight into an Extraction machine - or a prison cell - but there wasn't a lot he could do about that. "Okay," he said and, holding tightly to both his briefcase and the C32-7 form.

Jared smiled at him. "You'll be fine. I promise."

And damn every instinct in Jensen's body, because he actually wanted to believe him.

This trip through the hallways of the Ministry of Future Affairs was almost more stressful than the last one had been, which Jensen felt couldn't possibly be good for his heart. Jared's personable demeanor had fallen away the moment that they'd left the room, replaced by plastic efficiency, and Jensen was more than a little concerned by how easily he seemed to wear the placid mask of a normal Ministry employee.

Jensen wasn't sure whether he was more surprised or relieved when they rounded a corner and he found himself back in reception. 

"Please sign out with the receptionist," Jared said, in a voice bare of inflection. "Have a nice day."

"Uh, thanks," Jensen said, fighting down his nerves. 

Jared nodded once, briskly, and turned on his heel to leave. Jensen had to remind himself not to stare after him as he walked away. He needed to get his head in the game already.

Firming his jaw, he joined the queue at the front desk, doing his level best to radiate tired nonchalance. He kept his cool as he stepped up to the desk and handed over the form that Jared had given him.

He thought he noticed a faint stutter in the receptionist's otherwise smooth motions as she saw the number at the top of the form, but it was gone too quickly for Jensen to be able to tell whether or not it was just his nerves, jumping at nothing. He kept his face carefully composed while she input the relevant information into the computer, and had a faint smile ready for her when she dismissed him with a 'thank you'.

His heart was hammering as he stepped outside of the building without anyone chasing after him and dragging him back inside. The sun was still bright in the sky, which Jensen found momentarily strange; it felt like he'd been in there for half an eternity.

Someone coming out the door behind him nearly sent him tumbling down the stairs and Jensen jolted into motion, berating himself internally. Daydreaming on the steps of the Ministry was not the way to keep a low profile.

He hurried down the street, trying to look casual as he fumbled in his pocket for the card that Jared had given him. The address wasn't far away and, after a moment's thought, Jensen decided to walk. It would be harder to track him in the afternoon foot traffic than it would be to follow his ID if he paid for the bus. And Jared might have been confident that nothing would come of Jensen showing up at this safe house of his, but Jensen was a big fan of the bigger part of valour.

At a ruthlessly casual pace, it took Jensen less than ten minutes to reach the address. Which appeared to be a restaurant.

Not entirely sure what the protocol was for seeking asylum with rebel organizations, Jensen straightened his tie and marched into the building. The smell of frying food struck him immediately and, though he knew intellectually that he should have been hungry, the smell threatened to turn his stomach upside down. 

"Table for one?" the server asked as Jensen drew up.

"Um, actually Jared sent me?" Jensen said, wincing when it came out sounding like a question. "He, uh, gave me this card."

"Of course. Your table is ready for you," the server said, without missing a beat. "This way please."

Jensen was destined to spend the majority of his day following people around, it seemed. Shoving the card back into his pocket, he followed the server as he wove through the mostly-empty restaurant and led the way to a door that was covered with a hanging curtain.

"After you," the server said. Jensen steeled himself as he walked through into a small room with four tables set up in the same manner as the ones in the main dining room.

"Er," he started, and flailed when strong arms grabbed him.

"Hel-" he tried, only to have a rag clamped over his mouth and noise before he could manage anything more than a startled exhale. Panic buzzed through his blood as the world started spinning, the cloying scent of the rag over his face filling his nose.

"Easy there," a voice said behind him, and Jensen wasn't enough with it to know if it was the server or someone else entirely. 

_Son of a bitch_ , he thought muzzily, and then the world went black.

Jensen woke up on a remarkably uncomfortable bed.

"Ugh," he groaned, squinting into the light. His mouth tasted like something had died in it and the beginnings of a monumental headache were lurking in his temples. "The fuck-?"

"Sorry," a voice said, and Jensen turned his head laboriously to the side to see a red-headed woman leaning against the jamb of an open door. "It's not the most fun way to wake up, but the effects don't take long to clear. Think of it like a mini-hangover without the fun of getting drunk first."

"Yay," Jensen said dryly. "Who are you?"

"Danneel," she said. "And you are?"

Jensen squinted suspiciously at her. "Shouldn't you know?"

She shrugged unconcernedly. "Never hurts to be polite. Especially after you drug someone."

"You did this? Why?" Jensen tried to lever himself into a seated position and groaned when it made his stomach lurch.

Danneel's hands were on his arm almost immediately. "Easy there," she said, steadying him. "We can't just let people walk in, now, can we? Secrets are only good when they stay secrets."

"So I can't ask where I am?"

Unexpectedly, Danneel grinned. "Oh, you're quite welcome to ask. Just don't expect exact coordinates. This is the official headquarters of the counter-revolution and your new home away from, well. Life, I guess. We're underground, before you ask."

"Huh." Once he was sure that the contents of his stomach weren't going to end up all over him, Jensen paused to take stock of the room. It wasn't much to speak of: bed, dresser, chest of drawers, writing desk, chair, mirror. The walls were stone and the door was heavy-duty steel.

When he finished his perusal, he looked back to find Danneel watching him with a sympathetic expression. "It's a lot to get used to," she said. "I know."

"That's the second time someone's said that to me today." Jensen paused before squaring his shoulders and soldiering on to say, "So, am I a prisoner or a guest?"

Danneel chuckled warmly. "More like extended family, if that's what you want. You can travel as you please through the HQ, though you'll need to get permission if you want to go up top. Which might be hard to get," she added, sounding apologetic. "Unless there's a good reason for you to need to go."

Jensen nodded, not sure what to say in response.

Luckily, Danneel seemed to have a more complete version of the script. "I can give you a tour later, if you like, but right now I'm supposed to take you to meet the man in charge. If you think you're up to it."

"Who? I - yes. That's fine."

"Alright then, sexy, let's get you on your feet. On three." Between them, they managed to get Jensen off the bed and onto his feet without any major difficulties. The doorway led to a nondescript corridor that stretched out for several feet in each direction before bending away at right angles. Danneel pulled the door closed behind them; Jensen jolted at the weighty clang as it shut. 

Danneel chuckled and gestured for Jensen to follow her.

Jensen tried to keep track of their progress through the corridors, but soon gave it up as a fool's errand. It might not have been as bad as the Ministry buildings, but he wouldn't like to travel round this place without either a guide or a map anytime soon.

"It was built for the government about a million years ago," Danneel said, in response to Jensen's unspoken question. "Don't worry though; it got written off the books years ago so no one knows it's still here."

"Think I've got other stuff to worry about right now," Jensen said, not unkindly.

Danneel grinned. "Fair enough."

Eventually, they came to a hallway that dead-ended with a massive set of double doors splashed liberally with yellow paint. Danneel gave him a 'ready for this?' grin and Jensen nodded. Unless there was a talking dinosaur on the other side, he didn't think his day could get much more surreal than it already was.

The double doors opened into a small antechamber that had two other doors in it, both open. Jensen peeked through one as they walked past to see a closet-sized room stacked full of filing cabinets and boxes of what looked like file folders. The other door opened into an office dominated by a large desk. 

Behind the desk sat a man who looked to be about fifteen years Jensen's senior, broad across the shoulders with a salt and pepper beard. He was scowling furiously at the document he was reading, the expression carving deep lines in his tanned face. Jensen couldn't help but notice that his hands looked awfully weathered and callused for a person who worked behind a desk.

"Ahem," Danneel said. "Earth to Jeff."

The man looked up and a smile crossed his grizzled face. It made him look startling younger.

"Thanks for bringing him, Danny." The man stood up and rounded the desk. He extended a hand. "I'm Jeff Morgan. The de facto head of the counter-government movement."

"Jensen Ackles," Jensen said, shaking his hand. "But you already knew that."

Jeff chuckled, not bothering to sound sheepish about it. "Guilty. Jared's been keeping an eye on you since your birthday debrief. I'm glad he got to you in time."

"About that." Jensen took his hand back. "Why was he keeping an eye on me? I can't imagine that you've liberated a dozen people on the off chance that they were…" he still couldn't say it, and stumbled a bit before sending the sentence in another direction, "-in danger from Extraction."

"That's his job," Jeff said, with a liquid shrug. "I mostly just let him get on with it. He obviously saw something in your records worth a second look. Good news for you."

Personally, Jensen thought that that rather remained to be seen, but he didn't think it was wise to be saying so.

From the amused curl of Jeff's mouth, Jensen suspected that he might have figured out what Jensen was thinking, regardless.

"I'm afraid I've got to kick you out now, Danny," he said. "I think Jensen deserves a better explanation than he's got so far."

"Sure thing," Danneel said, not sounding put out. She turned a smile on Jensen. "Make sure this guy sends you in my direction when he's done, okay? I'll give you that tour."

"Thanks," Jensen said, and tried not to feel unexpectedly bereft as she left. 

"So," Jeff said, once the door had closed behind Danneel. "How are you holding up?"

"Not really sure yet," Jensen said honestly. "I don't think it's all sunk in."

"Not a surprise, really. This can't be what you were expecting when you woke up this morning."

"Not exactly, no," Jensen said, with a wry twist of his mouth. 

Jeff gestured at the chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit down. No need to stand on ceremony around here."

"So," Jensen said, as each claimed a chair. "What happens now?"

"Now?" Jeff leaned back and laced his hands in his lap. "I guess that depends. Right now you're in the heart of the counter-government movement. This building is the centre of all of our activities."

That sounded… ominous. "What kind of activities?"

"Our ultimate goal is to institute a new government that acknowledges and welcomes magic users as part of the community."

"Why don't you just invade and take over, if that's what you want? I mean, you've got magic, right?"

"A coup is all well and good, but it'll never survive without the people behind it. And I don't want to risk my men unless I'm very confident of the outcome; the government has a lot of power at its fingers."

Jensen raised an eyebrow at him. "You really don't think that your band of magic-wielding people could take out the army? Guess this magic stuff's not all it's cracked up to be."

"This is chess, not war," Jeff said, gently chiding. "We'll do much better to stick to our strengths and take this at a reasonable pace."

"So what sort of stuff do you do?"

"Disorganizing and destabilizing, mostly. Our goal is to sow discontent among the general populous. Which is most easily accomplished by throwing off the government's vaunted sense of order. Surely you've noticed that things haven't always been running smoothly in the past few years."

Jensen thought back and, yes, he could remember a few hurriedly glossed over instances of traffic accidents and clocks running behind time - the sorts of things that shouldn't have been able to happen in their highly organized society.

"I've got people in the government, the army, the civil service," Jeff continued, while Jensen thought about the implications of that. "All of them are destabilizing things in small ways that add up."

"To what end?" Jensen asked. "So some of the clocks are slow. What difference does that make?"

"In this case, a million paper cuts can do more good than a blade through the heart. It makes people question whether this government of theirs is really worth its salt, if it can't manage even the simplest parts of its routine. And that's the time for a coup."

"Uh huh." It sounded far too simplistic to Jensen's mind, but he had to admit that he'd never tried to overthrow a government, so what did he know about the best way to go about it? And it was likely that Jeff was giving him the abridged version, either to simplify the explanation or to keep him in the dark. Or both. 

A knock interrupted the flow of the conversation, and Jensen twisted round in his seat to see a dark-haired man with sharp cheekbones and massive biceps leaning around the corner of the door.

"Sorry to interrupt," the guy said. He hefted a sheaf of paper. "Got those numbers you were asking about."

Jeff waved him in. "Come on in. Jensen, this is Tamoh Penikett, one of our technical experts. Tamoh, this is Jensen. Jared recruited him."

"Cool." Tamoh ambled up and gave Jensen's hand a shake. "We can always use more magic users. What's your skill?"

"Er…?" Jensen flicked a glance at Jeff. "I don't-"

"Tamoh," Jeff said, and there was something warning in his voice. "Jensen just got here."

"Right, sorry." He offered Jensen a lopsided grin. "Don't mind me."

It was too late for that. Jensen fixed Jeff with a narrow-eyed look. "So you expect me to join your merry band of freedom fighters?" he asked, not even bothering to bite back the challenge in his voice.

"Only if you want to," Jeff said, which Jensen honestly hadn't expected. "We'd be happy to have you, of course, but only if you want to be here. I think you know that you can't go home," he said, with a gruff sort of kindness in his eyes. "Not unless you want the government to pick up right where it left off."

And Jensen hadn't quite put that together in so many words, amidst all the chaos. Something heavy and cold settled in his chest at the thought. "Right," he managed. He coughed around the roughness in his voice. "Of course. So where does that leave me?"

"We can set you up a new identity in another city. As long as you don't do anything to tip off the government, you should be perfectly safe."

"You guys operate in other cities?" Jensen asked, surprised.

Jeff gave him a look that made him feel like a moron. "Of course. This is the main HQ, since we're in the capital, but we've got chapters all over the country."

"Oh. You can actually give me a new identity? What about the paperwork?"

"Paperwork's the easy part. It'll require a continuous supply of blood resequencers and a facelift to make it work, but it can be done. Right, Tamoh?"

"It'd be a shame to mess with that face," Tamoh said, waving a wistful hand at Jensen. Jensen felt his cheeks prickling. "But yeah. I could do it."

Jensen tried to think about it. A new life, with literally no ties to the one he'd been living up until just a few hours ago. Was that really all the time it had been? This day already felt like it had lasted an eternity.

"I'll never be able to come home?"

"If we succeed in our efforts, then yes, you will be able to, one day. Until then, you'd be as good as dead to try it."

"And," Jensen wet his lips, nervously, "what would you expect of me if I stayed?"

Triumph flashed in Jeff's eyes, although his demeanor was still calm as he answered, "Hopefully, you'll be able to use your magic to help our efforts to destabilize the government." 

"But I don't even know if I _have_ magic," Jensen protested. "All I have is Jared's word for it and, honestly, I don't know how much I trust that."

Jeff chuckled. "Actually, you can probably trust it more than most things in your life. Jared's very good at what he does."

"If you say so," Jensen said, unconvinced.

"Up until now, you've been using your magic without realizing it. A little bit of time with a good teacher will teach you how to wield it consciously." He gestured at the folder on his desk. "Based on your profile, it's most likely that you're a Teller; we could use another one of those."

"Wait, wait, wait." Jensen held up a hand, trying to put his thoughts in order. "I'm a _what_? That's a machine."

Jeff looked a little rueful. "I'm guessing that Jared didn't get to that part of the explanation."

"No, he did not. Care to enlighten me?" 

"What the hell, we might as well make it an object lesson." Jeff rose from his chair. "Come with me. You too, Tamoh."

"Glad I haven't got anything better to do," Tamoh said dryly, even as he fell in step. 

Jensen followed the both of them out of Jeff's office and back into the mess of corridors beyond. His head felt clearer than it had on the way down - Danneel had been right about the drugs clearing out of his system quickly - and he set about memorizing the route they took. If he was going to be here for the next who the fuck knew how long, he'd better start getting used to the place.

They stopped in front of a door with a splash of red paint streaking down the middle. Jeff lifted his hand to knock.

"The rooms are colour-coordinated," Tamoh said to Jensen. "Makes it easier to keep track of everything."

"What does red stand for?"

Tamoh's grin sparkled. "Magic at work," he said, just as a voice from the other side of the door called out 'come in!'.

The room they walked into looked like an office supplies store that had been hit by a hurricane. Every available surface was littered with sheets of paper covered in a clear, blocky script. Jensen couldn't remember the last time he'd seen so much writing done by hand.

There were three desks set up against the far wall. One was empty - though still covered in paper - while the other two had people sat behind them, working away on Jensen didn't know what.

"Jeff," the woman at the desk said, not looking up from her work. "If you're here for the prophecy about the President's speech, I must cordially ask you to fuck off. I'm not done. Try me in another three days."

"Not actually why I'm here, but I appreciate the concise update." Jeff gestured at Jensen and her head jerked up. "This is Jensen. He just arrived."

"Hi," Jensen said, with an incredibly dorky wave. Hopefully first impressions were overrated.

"Well," she said, giving him a frank once-over. "Aren't you a gorgeous piece of work? Rwar. I'm Felicia," she continued, while Jensen found himself blushing hotly. "Head Teller of the resistance. There's a sign somewhere, but it's hard to see with all the paper around."

Jensen didn't have any idea if his input was even necessary for this conversation, so he settled for a nod. 

"Think you could give him a go?" Jeff asked, ignoring the way that it made Jensen sputter.

"My pleasure. Sit down," she told Jensen, gesturing at a chair that was likewise covered in paper. "Just shove that stuff in that box over there. That's it, thanks. Now give me your hand."

"Uh, what are you-" Jensen started.

"Quiet now. Working." Felicia took his hand between calloused fingers and pressed her thumbs into Jensen's palm. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

Jensen darted a confused glance at Jeff and Tamoh, but they both just gave him encouraging smiles, so he resigned himself to getting no help from that quarter.

"Three times countered," Felicia said suddenly, her voice somehow deeper and more cavernous than it had been before. "And turning back to go forwards-"

Jensen listened in startled silence as she rattled off the awkward phrases without pause or stutter. And they were very familiar phrases. 

Felicia uttered the final phrase and fell silent. The room was quiet for a long moment before she shook herself and opened her eyes.

"Alright?" Jeff asked her.

She nodded. "Just peachy, thanks." She let go of Jensen's hand. "And how are you? It can be a little freaky the first time you hear it from a person instead of one of those damn machines."

"That's… my prophecy from this year. Well, mostly." He narrowed his eyes at Jeff. "What kind of scam are you pulling here?"

Jeff, whose eyebrows had gone up at the word 'mostly', remained calm. "No scam. Felicia's a Teller. That's her magic. The machines that the Ministry of Future Affairs uses are… based on Teller magic."

Felicia snorted inelegantly. "That's one way of phrasing it." She turned to Jensen and said, bluntly, "Teller machines are what happen when the government steals the magic essence of some poor schmuck and tries to find another use for it."

"The ghost in the machine," Tamoh chimed in. His expression was thick with distaste as he added, "Pretty literally, too."

"But-"

"Haven't you ever wondered why prophecies are so obscurely worded?" Felicia asked. "If the government had its way, nothing that imprecise would ever be used. But magic isn't orderly and they can't do it with just machinery, so they work with what they've got."

"Wait." Jensen stared at the sober faces around him. "You're saying that the Teller machines are… are… powered by human magic?"

"And the city walls," Felicia said. "And the clocks, and-"

"The clocks?!"

"Well, the eyes, anyway. They don't seem to have figured out how to cannibalize Time Keepers yet, thank goodness." She cocked her head. "Have you met any Farseers, yet?"

Dazed, Jensen shook his head. 

"You're the type to rip the Band-Aid right off, huh, Felicia?" Tamoh said, sounding amused.

"I don't know how to handle this," Jensen admitted, feeling totally out of his depth. 

"Deep breaths," Tamoh suggested. "And try not to think about the fact that you've been lied to for your entire life."

"Gee, thanks," Jensen said sourly.

Tamoh grinned. "Anytime."

"The fact is," Jeff said, drawing his attention back to the conversation at hand, "that a great number of the structures that our government depends on for its survival are inferior, mechanical copies of magical abilities. The Tellers are the most obvious example, but Felicia's right that they're not the only ones."

Jensen swallowed around the panic in his throat. "What other types of magic are there?"

"There are four main types of magic. In additional to Tellers, there are Wardens who can make mental walls-" 

"Like Jared?" Jensen asked, and Jeff nodded.

"Exactly. Farseers - who can do pretty much what it sounds like - and Time Keepers who can freeze time for short intervals."

Jensen's eyebrows rose. "That sounds handy."

"It can be," Jeff agreed. "Although most Time Keepers can't manage it for long periods."

"Still." Jensen shook his head. "This is crazy."

"Just a little," Tamoh agreed. "Doesn't make it any less true, though."

"Geez." He turned his attention towards Jeff. "And you think that I'm a Teller?"

"Oh!" Felicia said, with sudden delight. Jensen jerked around to look and found her beaming from ear to ear. "Have you finally found me a new recruit, Jeff?"

"We think so," Jeff said. "Jensen's never had a prophecy come true, isn't that right?"

"You know, I hate it when people ask questions that they already know the answer to. No, none of my prophecies have ever come true." Jensen looked at them warily. Felicia was practically vibrating in her seat, while Jeff was mostly looking smugly self-satisfied. "Care to tell me why that's so important?"

"Can I?" Felicia waited for Jeff's nod before turning her enthusiasm on Jensen. "Magic users of the same type cancel each other out. Which means that, if you give a Teller a prophecy, it won't have any hold over them." 

"So if none of your prophecies have come true, that's good evidence to suggest that you're a Teller," Jeff finished.

"And we're so painfully understaffed right now, you have no idea." Felicia sighed happily. "It's like an early birthday present."

"This is where the Tellers do their work," Jeff said, gesturing around the chaotic space. "In case you hadn't guessed. Their ability to predict what's coming is vital for keeping our people safe and avoiding unnecessary risks."

"And you think that I can do this, too," Jensen said, almost a question. "I've never told a prophecy before."

"It takes some practice to get used to it," Felicia said. She nodded at the guy at the other desk, who hadn't so much as looked up during their conversation. "We'll help you. Don't worry. We'll have you spouting off cryptic proclamations in no time."

"Goodie," Jensen said dryly.

Everyone chuckled. 

"You'll get used to it," Felicia promised.

Jensen wasn't so sure he wanted to.

"So?" Danneel asked, as they walked down the hallway together. "How'd it go?"

Jeff and the others had finished cramming information into his brain for the moment, and Danneel had come to pick him up for the promised tour of the HQ. So far, Jensen was mostly just lost. He wasn't used to buildings that spread out instead of up and this place seemed big enough to cover at least an entire city block. 

And Danneel had just asked him a question, hadn't she?

Jensen shrugged. "Good, I guess? I'm not really sure what the benchmark is for a situation like this."

Danneel smiled kindly. "Stick with being glad you're still you, for now. The rest will come. Are you staying?"

"Yeah," Jensen nodded. "And I'm going to start training with Felicia tomorrow."

"You're a Teller? That's awesome!"

"That's what Jeff thinks," Jensen said, unwilling to be more committal than that. "Why is that awesome?"

"Because Felicia and DJ are totally overworked, and Tellers are really useful." She winked at him. "Besides, how cool is it to be able to tell the future?"

"I guess." They turned another corner and Jensen looked around helplessly. "I hope you realize that I am completely lost."

Danneel's laughter sparkled in the air. "Is it mean to say that I'm not surprised? Which is why-" she dug into her pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper, "-I got you this."

Jensen took it and was relieved beyond all measure to discover that it was a colour-coded map of the HQ.

"Thank you," he started, only to have her wave him off.

"Saves me from having to hold your hand every time you need to go potty." She smirked and added, "and Jeff will yell at me if I let another new recruit get lost and starve to death."

"Well, then, I appreciate your selfishness." Jensen saluted her with the map, finding a smile of his own to offer her.

"Any time, hot stuff. Now come on."

"Where are we going?" Jensen asked, trying to place them on his new map while Danneel hooked an arm through his and started dragging.

She grinned. "Time to eat! You must be starving."

Actually, Jensen still wasn't sure if throwing up everything in his stomach wasn't the most appropriate response to this situation, but he didn't protest. He hadn't seen a clock since he'd arrived and therefore had no idea what time it was, but even at a reasonable estimate for how long he'd been knocked out, it'd been a good 12 hours since the last time he'd eaten. Starving himself was not going to make things better, whether he wanted to eat or not. 

"This is the mess hall," Danneel said, when they emerged into a large room filled with rows of tables several moments later. "The food is surprisingly edible."

"Joy," Jensen said dryly, and let her herd him into the canteen area.

There were several handfuls of people scattered around and Danneel made sure to introduce him to everyone who walked past their table. Jensen gave up on remembering names after the third person, falling back on nodding and shaking hands. The food was making him feel heavy and lethargic, the chaos of the day catching up to him in a rush. He slumped down against the table, one hand propping up his chin to keep him from faceplanting as he let the wash of conversation lull him into a half-doze.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jolt.

"Hnh?" he slurred, trying unsuccessfully to look alert.

An amused chuckle came from somewhere above his head. "I think it's time you called it a day."

He knew that voice. "Jared?" he asked, blinking until the dark blot above him resolved into Jared's face.

"In the flesh. Come on," Jared said, getting a hand under Jensen's arm and hauling him upright. "Bedtime."

"You need help?" Danneel asked from… somewhere nearby. Jensen was a little fuzzy on the details.

"I got him. And you can stop thinking whatever's put that look on your face, Danneel Harris."

"I've got no idea what you're talking about," Danneel said breezily. "Also, ha."

"Shaddup," Jared said, though he sounded like he was smiling. Jensen's head was too heavy for him to lift it up to check. "You still with me, Jensen?"

"Hmm?" Jensen asked.

Jared chuckled again and the world whirled briefly as Jared propelled them both into motion.

"See you tomorrow, Jensen!" Danneel called after him, and Jensen managed some vague noise in response.

The trip through the endless corridors helped him wake up some, and Jensen flushed as he stopped leaning on Jared and focused on walking under his own strength.

"Okay?" Jared asked, with an ease that Jensen wasn't really sure he deserved.

"Yeah," Jensen said. "Sorry for, y'know."

"No worries. Everything go okay today?"

Jensen nodded and then, before his tired brain could think better of it, said, "Surprised I didn't see you sooner."

He immediately wanted to bash his head against the wall a couple of times, but Jared didn't appear to see anything untoward in the comment. 

"Well I had to finish work first. And it's never a good idea to be out after curfew, so I couldn't come last night. I live in the city," Jared explained, when Jensen looked confused. "Most of the team does."

"What?" Jensen demanded. "How come you get to live topside while I'm cooling my heels here?"

"Because you're on the government's radar as a potential threat and I'm not," Jared said calmly.

Jensen had to give him that one. It didn't mean he had to like it, though.

"Just do your best," Jared advised. "You'll be okay. Here we are," he said then, stopping in front of a door that had Jensen's name written on it in green paint. "Home sweet home."

"Great," Jensen said, trying not to wince when it fell flat. He doubted he'd ever be able to think of this as home, and spared a wistful thought for his familiar housing unit. He scraped together most of a smile for Jared as he reached for the door. "Guess this is goodnight, then."

"Before that! I brought you something."

Jensen perked up. "Yeah?"

Jared held out a bulging duffle bag with a hopeful little smile. "I couldn't take a lot, not without it raising the wrong kind of flags, but I figured you might like some clothes of your own." 

"These are mine?" Jensen asked, a little numbly. 

It might have been his tired mind playing tricks on him, but Jensen thought that Jared looked a little bashful at that. "Hey, it's the least I could do after pulling you away from your whole life without even giving you the time to pack an overnight bag. Of course, it wasn't easy to find stuff in your closet that wasn't suits. You own way too many ties, I hope you know."

"Jared?"

Jared paused. "Yeah?"

"Thanks." He hefted the bag. "For my things."

It wasn't the only thing that Jensen was thanking him for. The smile that creased Jared's face in response made it pretty clear that Jared knew it.

"Don't mention it. I'll… see you later."

Jensen nodded. "Good night," he said, and resisted the urge to wave dorkily as Jared turned and ambled back the way they had come. Jensen took a deep breath that turned into a yawn partway through, then let himself into his new room, trying very hard not to think about anything at all.


	3. Chapter 3

  


Jensen's sleep was broken and distracted, plagued by the discomfort of being in an unusual place and the wisps of nightmares that he was glad not to remember when he woke up. 

After breakfast, he started his first training session with Felicia and another scrawny-looking Teller named DJ. They walked him through the basics and then let Jensen give it a try himself.

To say that it didn't go well would have been an understatement. Mostly, it didn't go at all.

"Don't make that face," Felicia said, while Jensen scowled at the corner of her desk. "It's your first attempt. I'd have been shocked if you'd succeeded, honestly."

"If you say so," Jensen said dubiously. After an hour of following Felicia's instructions on how to tap into his magic, he was more than a little disheartened that he hadn't felt so much as a twitch of anything remotely magic-like. He wasn't used to being bad at things. "But shouldn't I have been able to feel _something_?"

Felicia shrugged, unconcerned. "Not necessarily. And it's not a race, anyway."

"Should I keep trying?"

"Not today. Don't want to overdo it. Think of it like using muscles that you haven't worked out in a while: you're going to strain something if you try to do too much too soon."

Jensen frowned.

"Telling the prophecy is only a small part of what we do here anyway," DJ chimed in. "Even if it takes a while to get the hang of it, we can still use your help."

"Doing what?"

"Interpreting," Felicia said. "Prophecies are no use to us unless we can interpret them ahead of time."

"Hence the mess." DJ gestured at the avalanche of paper on his desk. "We need to collate the various prophecies together and do our best to figure out what they mean _before_ they come to pass. Then we pass that information on to Jeff so he can make plans for the future."

"The books over there list the most common interpretations," Felicia said, pointing at a pair of bookshelves filled to overflowing with massive black-spined tomes. "And we add to them as we go. They're helpful for cross-referencing."

"I can probably help with that," Jensen offered. "I got a lot of practice at interpreting prophecies when I was trying to… you know."

"Make up shit that the Ministry would buy as resolutions?" DJ finished, with a grin. "I'll bet."

"I still can't believe you've been successfully duping the Ministry since you were a teenager," Felicia said. "I don't know any other Teller who's lasted that long."

Jensen shrugged, a little bashfully. "I just spent a lot of time reading the prophecies in the public records hall, is all. Learning the standard patterns of interpretation and stuff like that."

DJ raised a hand. "I motion to have Jensen do all the cross-referencing from now on."

"Motion seconded and carried," Felicia said, with a serious demeanor that didn't crack until she caught sight of the expression on Jensen's face. "Don't worry, we wouldn't throw you in at the deep end like that. But seriously, an extra pair of eyes will be hella helpful."

"Whose prophecies are they?" Jensen wanted to know.

"The members of the resistance, mainly. Sometimes our undercover guys at the Ministry of Future Affairs get a hold of the Teller machine prophecies for some of the government bigwigs, but it's a bit risky so we try to avoid it." Her mouth twisted into a wry grimace. "It's not exactly easy to waltz out of the building with a copy of the president's prophecy."

"I'll bet." Jensen looked at the massive stack of handwritten prophecies on DJ's desk. "I didn't realize that there were so many people in the resistance."

"There's more than you might expect, since most of them live topside," Felicia said. "But the reason we've got so many prophecies to go through is that we try to get one from each of them at least every other month."

"The prophecies change that often?" Jensen asked, surprised. "Why does the government do mandated prophecy-giving only once a year, then?"

DJ shrugged. "Efficiency, mostly. And the machines can burn out if they're overused."

"So can we," Felicia said. She looked at Jensen. "We can't run forever. Three prophecies a day is about my max before I start to get tired, and it's not unusual for a Teller to pass out if they give too many prophecies in a row."

"She's better than me," DJ put in. "Three a day would knock me right out."

Jensen frowned. "Is that the case with all magic? Because Jared used his magic to convince me that it was real and it didn't seem like he had much trouble with it."

Felicia hummed thoughtfully. "It depends on the type of magic. Some abilities take more effort than others."

"Also, Jared's a tank," DJ said. "His endurance is scary-high."

"Huh," Jensen said, and very carefully did not think of how else he might interpret that sentence. "Don't know that mine's going to be all that impressive. I'm not exactly a fan of working out."

Felicia waved off his concerns. "Don't worry about it. It's like everything else: your body will adjust."

"If I ever figure out how to do it," Jensen muttered.

"You will," Felicia said. She slapped him on the back hard enough to make his skin sting, then stood. "Come on. Time for lunch."

"And more practice after that?"

Felicia grinned. "Calm down, tiger. I've got something else in mind for you to do."

Jensen looked at the wickedness in her expression and abruptly had a bad feeling about this.

Motherfucking _filing_. Jensen hated everything.

"Knock, knock," a voice said, and Jensen glanced up from where he was tying his shoelaces to see Jared leaning in the doorway of his room. He was dressed in casual clothes for the first time since Jensen had met him; Jensen tried not to get distracted by the endless stretch of denim-clad legs.

"Jared," he said, surprised but not displeased. "What are you doing here?"

Jared, Jensen had discovered, didn't spend a great deal of time at the HQ and, when he was there, Jensen was usually busy in the Teller office. As a result, Jensen had seen Jared all of twice in the three weeks since he'd arrived. He told himself that it didn't bother him. And refused to think about why it might bother him in the first place.

Jared shrugged. "Thought I'd pop by. Want to come on a field trip with me?"

Jensen blinked. "A what?"

"Field trip. Been awhile since you've seen the sun," Jared said, pointing one finger upwards. "Thought you might be missing it."

"I… into the city?" Jensen had tentatively asked Danneel about the process for getting permission to leave the base exactly once. When he'd realized that, for him, it was all but impossible to get it, he'd given up hoping.

"Yep," Jared said, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Am I allowed?"

"Why not? Unless you're planning to run. You aren't, are you?"

Jensen rolled his eyes. "I hardly think I'd tell you if I was."

"Ah," Jared said, grinning hugely. "But you forget that I can tell when you lie."

"Bullshit. Also, not what I meant. Aren't I still on the government's watch list?"

"That's what disguises are for." Jared pulled a pleading face. "Come on, Jensen. Just for a couple of hours. It'll do you good."

"I have to ask Felicia," Jensen said, which was totally a yes.

Jared whooped, his delighted smile making him look more like a little kid than a member of an underground rebellion. "Great! I'll grab us some breakfast while you talk to Felicia. Meet you in the Teller office!"

He fairly bounced out the door, and Jensen shook his head, unable to curb his smile.

Felicia had given him permission to take the day off, as he'd known she would. His mammoth effort towards organizing their files was actually starting to bear fruit and could be safely left for another day, and they both agreed that some time off from his Teller training wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Jensen didn't much appreciate the way both of her eyebrows went winging up her forehead when he told her where he was going - or, more accurately, with whom he was going there - but he hadn't really expected anything less.

"I promise to bring him back in one piece!" Jared said, with a beaming grin that made Felicia laugh.

"You'd better. Where else am I going to get such nice eye candy?"

"Aw, baby, why you gotta be like that?" DJ asked, and Jared and Jensen beat a hasty retreat before they could get drawn into it.

"Breakfast," Jared said as they headed down the hall, handing Jensen a bagel.

"What a gentleman," Jensen said dryly. "Where to now?"

"Costume department," Jared said, leading Jensen down a hallway that he hadn't traveled before. "A couple quick changes and you'll be able to walk down the street without worrying about being arrested."

"Well, that's a relief."

Jared grinned. "I figured it might be. This way."

The room that Jared led him to looked like a dressing room, complete with a chair in front of a large mirror and cupboards that looked full to bursting with clothes. It also contained one impishly grinning Danneel, holding a pair of scissors.

Jensen halted, just inside the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Danny's going to cut your hair for you," Jared said, putting hands on his shoulders and steering him forward.

Danneel winked at him. "Don't worry. I won't make you hideous."

"To be fair, I don't think anything could make him hideous," Jared said, probably because he was a cruel bastard who liked seeing Jensen blush. 

"If you're not going to be helpful, you can shut up. I was a beautician before I became a rebel," she told Jensen. "So you can trust me when I say that I know what I'm doing."

"Just sit down already," Jared said. "It'll be fine, I promise."

It was a stupid thing to be nervous about. "Be gentle with me," Jensen deadpanned at her, sitting down with studied calm. 

Danneel sighed. "You are no fun at all."

15 minutes later, Jensen was looking at his own shocked eyes in the mirror that Danneel had produced for him. He'd always had a tendency towards longer hair - not Jared-long, but enough to curl around his ears and hang low across his brow. Danneel had shortened it considerably, and rumpled into a mess of soft spikes. It looked good, Jensen had to admit.

Jared wolf-whistled. "Looking good there, Jensen! Danny, I stand in awe of your skills."

"Told you," Danneel said smugly. "What do you think, Jensen?"

"It's good," he said, still a little stunned at how different it made his face look. "Thanks."

"My pleasure. What do you think, Jared? Does he pass muster?"

Jared looked him up and down. "We need one more thing." He reached into his pocket and produced a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. "Try these."

"Seriously?" Jensen raised an eyebrow at him. "You do realize that Superman isn't real, I hope."

Jared grinned. "Actually, Clark Kent had something there; you'll be amazed at how much a pair of glasses will change your appearance. And you're not wearing a suit for once, which is nothing short of a miracle. Fess up, you were born wearing one, weren't you?"

"Ha ha," Jensen said, slipping on the glasses. The lenses were obviously just plain glass, so they didn't impede his vision, although the frames were a bit distracting. "Well?" he asked, turning towards Jared. "Will I do?"

"Perfect," Jared said, after a pause so brief that Jensen nearly missed it. "You ready to go?"

Jensen nodded, and waved goodbye to Danneel as Jared led the way back out into the hallway.

He knew where the door out of the HQ was located, thanks to Danneel's map, though he'd never bothered to go there himself. Jared was clearly on autopilot as he led the way there, which made sense considering how often he left the base. 

The door was blocked by a pretty blonde girl about Jared's age who looked vaguely familiar. She didn't have a gun, but Jensen suspected that she was probably a Warden, which made it something of a moot point.

"Hey Jared," the guard said. "Looks like you've picked up a shadow."

"This is Jensen," Jared said, gesturing between them. "Also known as the New Guy and the Cute One. Jensen, meet Alona. Jeff signed off on it," he added, passing over a piece of paper while Jensen blushed furiously and tried to set him on fire with his brain.

"Nice to meet you, Jensen," Alona said, somehow managing to resist the urge to laugh. She gave the paper a once-over, then nodded. "You're good to go. Don't cause too much trouble."

"Trouble?" Jared asked, with mock affront. "Me?"

"You," Alona agreed.

"Well, I never. Come on, Jensen," Jared said, seizing Jensen's wrist and dragging him bodily towards the door.

"Save me," Jensen mouthed at Alona as he was dragged past, and she laughed.

"Have fun!" she called after them.

The door opened into the back of the restaurant, which Jensen really should have been expecting. Jared hauled him out a side door before any of the people working in the restaurant saw them, which was fine with Jensen.

Mostly because he was distracted by the sight of the ordinary street outside: the towering buildings and the steady traffic and the small patch of blue sky high above.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the sky.

Jensen tipped his head back, closing his eyes at the feeling of the sun on his face. The regular noises of the city echoed in his ears, infinitely familiar after weeks of muffled, echoing stillness. It was wonderful and oddly overwhelming, and Jensen didn't know how long he stood there, soaking it all in before he opened his eyes.

Jared was watching him. "You good?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jensen said, feeling a smile curving his lips. "Just… gimme a sec."

"You can have as many secs as you need."

Jared was good as his word, waiting patiently while Jensen acclimated to his surroundings. Eventually, Jensen came back to himself and he scrubbed a hand down the back of his neck.

"Sorry," he said, awkwardly.

"Nonsense," Jared said, waving him off. "That's why we're up here. And we've got no need to rush. We can do whatever you want."

Jensen hesitated. "Maybe… a walk?" he suggested. His first impulse was to check in on his family, on Chris, on what was left of the life he'd abandoned, but he knew it was a foolish thought. And he had the sudden desire to reacquaint himself with the city that he'd grown up in.

And Jared smiled. "Works for me."

They wandered around for several hours, blending in with the general hubbub of the city more easily than Jensen had expected. He couldn't stop himself from stiffening every time a city clock turned their way, or someone stood too close at a crosswalk. He felt like all it would take was one look and everyone would know who he was.

"Relax," Jared murmured in his ear, one hand skimming comfortingly down Jensen's arm. "They're more likely to pay attention if you're nervous for no reason."

"How do you do this all the time?" Jensen whispered back, trying to decide if the person walking just ahead of them was listening in on their conversation. "I'd go mental."

Jared chuckled. "Practice. And some decent acting skills. You ready for lunch?"

Jared bought him lunch from a street vendor and then veered towards the park. "No point in coming all the way up here just to sit inside and eat!" he grinned. "Let's go find a bench."

And Jensen couldn't deny the desire to soak in the sun for as long as possible, so he didn't protest.

They found a bench in fairly short order. Jared chatted aimlessly while they ate, because apparently he was capable of talking and inhaling food at the same time. Jensen wasn't sure whether to be impressed or horrified.

"So," Jared said, once their food was gone. "How are you settling in at HQ?"

Jensen darted a sharp glance around them, taking in all the people within earshot. "Should we be talking about this here?" 

Jared winked at him. "It's all cool. One of the benefits of being a Warden: as far as all these people know, there's nothing to overhear."

"You can block sound? Seriously?" Jared nodded. "What else can you block?"

"Depends on what I want to block." Jared slouched lower on the bench, legs sprawling lazily. "And right now, I want to have a conversation with you without being overheard."

"Couldn't we have done that at HQ?" Jensen asked. 

"Yeah," Jared said easily. "But you're more comfortable here. And I know how easy it is to go stir crazy when you're trapped inside with a bunch of strangers."

Jensen looked down at his hands. "It's not that I don't like them-"

"But you don't know them yet," Jared finished. "It's okay. I get it."

"I don't know you either," Jensen felt the need to point out. 

"And you don't need to talk to me if you don't want to," Jared said. He wadded up the wrapping from his hot dog and pitched it into a nearby trash can. "I won't hold it against you. But if you want someone to talk to, I'm here."

Jensen was silent for a moment. "I'm settling in fine, I guess," he said finally. Because he did want to talk to Jared, even though he wasn't really sure he wanted to know why that seemed preferable to Danny or Felicia or any of the other people he'd met. 

_You always were a crusher_ , Chris' voice said in his mind. Jensen mentally told him to fuck off.

"How's the training going?"

Jensen gave him a sour look and Jared winced.

"That good, huh?"

Jensen snorted. "It's a complete non-starter. No matter what Felicia and DJ try, it doesn't work. I couldn't predict the weather, let alone a person's future."

"Hey, predicting the weather isn't that easy either. What does Jeff have to say about it?"

Jensen shrugged, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. "Dunno. I haven't talked to him in a while. But it's obvious that Felicia's got better things to do than keep wasting her time with me."

Jared hummed thoughtfully. "You think he's going to stop the training?"

Jensen spread his hands helplessly. "What choice does he have? If I have magic, it's not working out how he wanted it to."

"Do you think you don't have magic?"

"Fuck, I don't know." Jensen raked his hands through his hair, frustrated. "You know, when I got my first prophecy, I genuinely thought that I was just bad at interpreting. Everyone told me that it would be obvious when a prophecy got resolved, but I never thought so." He shook his head, a wry smile twisting his mouth. "I was so damn nervous at my first debrief, you have no idea. I'd cobbled together a flimsy list of things that I thought, maybe, could have been the resolutions to my prophecies, but I was honestly expecting to get slapped with a Misinterpretation Violation right then and there."

"What happened?" Jared asked quietly.

Jensen snorted. "What else? I got my A7183 form and went to one of the Teller machines for my new prophecy, just like everyone else. I guess it's pretty normal for teenagers to be nervous at debriefs. It wasn't until the second year that I started getting a clue, but it took a good four years of prophecies that were completely wrong before I admitted it to myself."

"Did you tell anyone?" Jared asked.

"Fuck no. I didn't dare. Started spending a lot of time looking up standard prophecy interpretations instead. And doing what I could to _make_ my prophecies come true." He quirked a grin at Jared. "Like the year I bought a motorcycle for the express purpose of crashing it into a tree."

Jared winced. "Ouch. You're very brave."

Jensen made a face. "I didn't have much choice."

His fingers brushed against Jensen's cheek, coaxing him to turn and meet his eyes. "Doesn't mean it wasn't brave of you to face the problem head-on." 

"Yeah, well…" Jensen shrugged off the touch, feeling unaccountably awkward with the honest praise. "The point I'm trying to make is that I know I'm not normal. But after all the work I've done with Felicia, it's hard to have faith that it's because I'm magic."

A moment of silence fell between them.

"Are you upset with me?" Jared asked and Jensen blinked at him.

"What? Why?"

"If you're right and you don't have magic, you would have been fine to go through Extraction." 

Jensen was silent for a long moment, thinking it over. "No," he decided finally.

"No?"

"No, I'm not sorry you took me. Don't get me wrong," he hurried to add, "I'm kind of pissed at the idea that this whole situation could have been avoided, but I'd rather be where I am now than risk turning into a - a robot person." Daring greatly, he bumped his shoulder into Jared's. "And you're not such bad company."

Jared's beaming smile warmed him nearly as much as the overhead sun. Fuck.

"Yeah? I'm glad. You're much too nice to get turned into a government drone."

"Gee, thanks." Jensen sighed, a little wistfully. "I guess we ought to be getting back soon, huh?"

Jared shrugged. "There's still no rush. Gotta make the most of your first day topside in nearly a month."

"Mm," Jensen said absently, most of his attention on what he'd really rather be doing right now.

"You want to see them?" Jared asked, so nonchalantly that it took Jensen a moment to decide that he'd heard what he had. 

"I can do that?"

"See? Yes. Talk to, hug or otherwise interact with? Not so much. But we can watch from afar and make sure that everything's okay."

"Better not," Jensen decided, after several long moments thought. He offered Jared a weak smile. "Not sure I trust my willpower if I was close enough to touch."

"I've been keeping track of them," Jared offered unexpectedly. Jensen turned an incredulous look on him, and Jared ducked his head. "Nothing major. But I've been keeping an eye out for their names in the government records. There's been no interest in them since you vanished."

Jensen let out an explosive breath. "Oh, thank goodness."

"You miss them," Jared said, not really a question.

"Yeah." Jensen looked out across the park, taking in the familiar landscape and the not-so distant loom of the buildings. "Do you really believe this rebellion is going to change anything?" he asked, before he'd quite realized that he was going to.

"I do," Jared said, so staunchly that Jensen turned to look at him. There was a determined, hopeful shine in Jared's eyes that Jensen had never seen before. "This world we live in is wrong, Jensen. It's so dependent on rules and order that no one's able to be an individual, not really. And it's up to us to make it a better place for everyone: normal people and magic users both. It might not change quickly, but it will change. We'll make sure of it."

"Wow," Jensen said, not sure what else to say. "I don't know if I've ever believed in something that strongly."

"Thanks to my job, I've seen a lot of terrible things happen to good people," Jared said, his voice uncharacteristically hushed. "It makes you want to do something. And I believe that Jeff can get us there."

"Huh," Jensen said thoughtfully. 

They sat side by side for several long minutes, the silence between them deep but not uncomfortable. A glance to the side revealed Jared slouched back in the bench, looking content to sit there all day. Jensen felt a pulse of affection that he quickly stifled.

He patted Jared's knee and stood. "Come on. I think I've had enough fresh air for one day."

"You sure?" Jared asked. He climbed to his feet, looking down the few inches between their heights. "We can stay."

Jensen shook his head. "We've got a rebellion to support, right? I'll just look forward to our next trip."

"Sounds like a plan. Mind if we take the long way back to the HQ? It's been a while since I took the time just to wander."

"Sure," Jensen said, and they fell in step together.

"The glasses suit you, by the way," Jared said, a propos of nothing. 

"Uh, thanks, I guess?"

Dimples carved deeply in Jared's cheeks as he grinned. "You're welcome."

It was edging close to sunset by the time they finally made their way back to the restaurant. Jensen tried not to sigh too audibly as he passed through the deceptively flimsy-looking door leading down to the HQ, though he didn't doubt for a moment that Jared had noticed.

Because Jared was apparently a gentleman, he escorted Jensen all the way back to his room instead of letting him make his own way there.

"Thanks," Jensen said, when they finally reached his green-splashed door. "That was nice."

Jared smiled. "It was my pleasure." He swayed a little in place, and Jensen was absolutely sure he was about to be kissed. He stilled, hardly daring to breathe.

But then Jared straightened and an expression that Jensen couldn't parse flitted across his face. "See you later, Jensen," Jared said, and turned to go.

"Why me?" Jensen blurted.

Jared stopped and turned back to him. "Why you, what?"

"You met with all of the people who had a death prophecy last year, right?" 

Jared nodded.

"They can't _all_ be here; it's not practical and too dangerous for you to get them all out besides. So why did you pick me to try and rescue?"

"Do you remember the first thing I said to you?" Jared asked, after a silence long enough that Jensen had all but given up getting an answer.

No, actually he didn't. "Uh…"

"'Come with me if you want to live'. It's the first thing I say to everyone when I walk in that room. Normally, people are confused, or maybe irritated. Once in a while, someone actually finds it funny." 

Jensen bit his tongue on an impatient 'and?'.

"I screened 17 people this year because of that prophecy," Jared continued. His expression was somewhere between gentle and sad as he added, "and you were the only one out of all of them to look _relieved_ when I said it."

"So," Danneel said, as she set her tray down on the table and sat across from Jensen. "How was your date?"

"Good morning, Danneel. I slept well, thanks for asking," Jensen said, not looking up from his toast. "It wasn't a date."

Danneel made an indelicate sound. "Nice try. You're practically floating."

"You're insane." Jensen paused to swallow a mouthful. "Jared was just being nice. He's like that with everybody."

"You know," Danneel said, in a tone of voice that had Jensen on immediate alert. Things never went well when women used that voice. "Jared doesn't usually visit that often."

"Maybe there are big things going on at the Ministry of Future Affairs," Jensen suggested blandly.

Danneel rolled her eyes. "As if. Maybe it's because they predict the future for a living, but the Future Affairs people have no sense of spontaneity at all."

"Felicia and DJ could probably give them a lesson or two."

"Unleashing both of them on an unsuspecting public would be cruel and unusual punishment. Heads would probably explode." Danneel pointed her fork at him. "And don't try and distract me. We're talking about this whether you like it or not."

"Talk about what, exactly?" Jensen asked, because he wasn't about to make it easy for her.

She made a face at him. "Nice try. You're allowed to admit it, you know."

"That's nice. And what, exactly, am I supposed to be admitting?"

"That you're in love with Jared, obviously."

Jensen, who had chosen that moment to swallow a mouthful of pasta, promptly started choking. "Ngh! Agh, what?!" he managed, once he'd managed to start breathing again. 

Danneel, the traitor, laughed at him. "You are so cute when you go all red like that."

"What, when I'm busy choking to death?" Jensen wiped angrily at the mess on his face, making a face at the stains on his shirt. "You do realize that I'm not exactly rolling in clean clothes right now, I hope."

"Whatever." Danneel waved him off. "We'll ask Jared to pick you up a new one. I'm sure he's got a very comprehensive idea of what size you are."

"Stop it." Jensen held up a hand to halt her protests. "No, I mean it. This isn't funny, Danny."

Her expression softened. "I'm not trying to be funny. I think you two could be good together. You can't honestly think you can deny that you like him."

"Sure, he's hot," Jensen tried, only to be cut off by a derisive snort from Danneel.

"So's Tamoh, and you won't even give him the time of day." She paused. "And so am I, for that matter. Jared's not the only game in town."

Okay, _now_ Jensen felt awkward. "Ah, Danny, I-"

"Spare me," she said, and now it was her turn to hold up a quelling hand. "It was just an example. I'm not secretly pining after you, no matter how unreasonably attractive you are. Although," she added, with a wicked smirk, "If you keep blushing like that, I might change my mind."

" _Danny_."

She laughed. "Oh, lighten up already. Seriously, you're so repressed. Jared likes you too, you know," she said, and Jensen was glad that he'd already given up on eating or he might actually have done himself in this time. "Why do you think he's been around the base so much since you got here?"

"He's pining for Jeff?" Jensen tried.

Danneel wrinkled her nose. "Oh yuck. I did not need that mental image. They're like father and son."

Jensen smirked at her. "You're welcome."

"And you're a coward. Jensen," she said, reaching out to cup her hands over Jensen's. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Nothing. I don't know. It doesn't matter." Jensen grabbed his half-full tray and stood. "I should get to work."

Danneel sighed. "If you weren't a Teller, I'd make you get a love reading from Felicia. Maybe that would be enough to kick your ass into gear."

"I have never been so delighted to spoil your fun. Later, Danny!"

"We are not done talking about this!" Danneel shouted after him.

"We so totally are!" Jensen shouted back, and beat a hasty retreat while the getting was good.

Four days later, Jensen opened his eyes after yet another unsuccessful attempt at telling Felicia's prophecy to find Jeff watching the proceedings.

"Hey, Jeff," Felicia said easily. "You got something for us?"

"Actually," Jeff said. "I was hoping to talk to Jensen."

Felicia flicked a look at Jensen that was at once rueful and unsurprised. "Figured you might be coming by sometime soon."

Jeff ignored her and turned his attention to Jensen, who felt kind of like sinking through the floor under his steady gaze. "You got a minute?"

"Sure," Jensen said, without letting on about the turmoil inside him. 

"You send him back in one piece, y'hear?" Felicia called after them, as Jeff led the way out of the room.

"I always knew you loved me!" Jensen shouted over his shoulder, and refused to quail under the thoughtful look Jeff gave him.

"You're much prettier than DJ, is all!"

"Hey now," DJ protested. "I'm gorgeous. Right, Jeff?"

"I'm staying out of this," Jeff said, and beat a tactical retreat with Jensen at his heels.

"Is it always like that in there?" he asked, as they walked towards his office.

"Pretty much," Jensen agreed. "They bring out the worst in each other when it comes to teasing, I think."

"Felicia's always like that," Jeff said. "Everyone else gets sucked into her orbit. DJ never stood a chance."

Jensen made a noise of agreement and they made the rest of the trip in a silence that he couldn't help but find incredibly awkward. Of all the people that Jensen had got to know at the HQ, Jeff had to be the one he knew the least about. Perhaps it was because he was the man in charge and tried to maintain a distance between himself and the rest of the team. Jensen suspected it was more because Jeff was a secretive bastard who liked to play everything so close to the chest that even he didn't know the whole truth.

"Take a seat," Jeff said, as they walked into his office. "How have you been settling in?"

"Fine," Jensen said, sitting down. "But that's not why you want to talk to me."

Jeff grinned ruefully. "Not a fan of pleasantries, huh? I can appreciate that." He sighed heavily. "I'm cutting back your training time with Felicia."

Jensen nodded, swallowing down his emotions. Because he might have seen this coming a mile away, but that didn't make him feel any less useless. "That's fair."

"She's too valuable to spend so much of her time with you when…" Here, Jeff trailed off, looking awkward.

"When you're not sure I even have any magic ability," Jensen said for him. 

"I'm not going to stop your training entirely," Jeff said, in the tone of voice of someone desperately trying to seem fair and reasonable. "Jared pegged you as a magic user and he's got a real eye for it. I trust his judgment. But I can't afford to be down one Teller until you get it figured out."

"What am I going to do instead?" Jensen asked.

Jeff sighed again. "I don't suppose you know how to cook?"

Jensen snorted. "Only if you like your water burnt."

"I was afraid you would say that." Jeff scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'll ask around the different departments and see if anyone needs help."

"Great," Jensen said, without enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry, Jensen, I know-"

The door chose that moment to bang open and Jensen turned in his seat to see Chad striding in, most of his attention on the sheaf of paper in his hands. Chad was one of the Farseers who held an undercover position with the military. He was also utterly insane, judging by the limited interactions that Jensen had had with him.

"Jeff, I need your help with a vehicle requisit- oh, sorry," he said, as he caught sight of Jensen. "Didn't know you were busy."

"That is usually what the closed door means," Jeff said, though not unkindly. "We're actually just finishing up, so come on in. Right, Jensen?"

"Right," Jensen echoed, trying not to feel stung at being so summarily dismissed. He climbed to his feet and Chad wasted no time in crowding up against the desk to show Jeff his paperwork.

"I need to requisition a class one vehicle with a C37 drive system," he said, as Jensen started for the door. "But I can't figure out what form this stupid fucking paperwork is asking me for."

"Hmm," Jeff said, the universal sound of people who didn't know what the fuck they were talking about. "I think you need-"

"A 77VF," Jensen said, pausing just inside the door to look back at both of them.

Jeff blinked. "A what?"

"A 77VF." Jensen walked back across the room and, after getting a nod from Chad, leaned in to point out the relevant information on the top page. "See here? The VF series of forms are for military requisitions of government property and the 77VF is for class one vehicles. It's listed right here."

It took about three minutes to explain, and a further 15 to walk Chad through the process. Jeff watched wordlessly while Jensen got Chad sorted.

"Thanks," Chad said, once they were finished. "You totally saved me."

"No problem," Jensen said, and stood awkwardly around while Chad said his goodbyes and left.

"How did you know that?" Jeff asked, almost mildly.

Jensen hunched one shoulder in an awkward shrug. "I was a legal consultant before… before. Governmental paperwork procedures were mandatory knowledge."

"Huh." Jeff looked at him with a decidedly appraising eye.

"Uh," Jensen said, fighting the urge to fidget. "What?"

"I've changed my mind," Jeff said. "I think I know just the job for you."


	4. Chapter 4

Secretary.

That's what Jensen ended up doing. Jeff's glorified personal secretary. How humiliating.

Jeff set him up with a desk and a filing cabinet in the antechamber to his office. Jensen's first task was to organize the chaos of Jeff's files - which was a considerable amount of chaos. The second was to deal with the disaster area masquerading as a filing room attached to the antechamber.

Jensen was not best pleased.

Jared came by on the afternoon of his third day.

"Jensen?" he asked, with what Jensen thought was an unnecessary amount of trepidation in his voice. "You in here?"

"I can hardly be anywhere else," Jensen replied tartly. He strode out of the filing room and dropped the latest box on his desk with a thump. "It'll take me weeks to get all this shit organized. These files are a disaster."

"Having fun then, I see."

"I'm not sure it can even be considered filing," Jensen said, warming to the topic. "More like a dumping ground for every piece of paper with something approximately resembling words on it that Jeff has come across in the past fifty years."

"So you're _not_ having fun."

"Do you know how well educated I am?" Jensen demanded.

"Very?" Jared suggested.

" _Extremely_ well educated! I am qualified in three different branches of legal consulting. I graduated top in my class and bill out more per hour than most people make in a month! I did _not_ fast track my MBA to play secretary to a jumped-up, secretive-"

"It could be worse?" Jared cut in.

"Could it indeed?" Jensen said sourly.

Jared offered a sheepish little shrug. "You could be sweeping the floors?"

Jensen blinked at him, then snorted out a little laugh despite himself. "I guess that's true." He looked at the rather dusty mess all over his desk and huffed. "If I'd ever stopped to consider the glamorous life of a revolutionary, this is not what I'd have pictured."

"Try not to think about it too much or you'll lose all sense of majesty." Jared hesitated. "I heard that your training time with Felicia got cut back?"

"For all the difference it makes." Jensen sighed heavily. "I'm down to twice a week. And in the meantime," Jensen took the top folder out of the box and slapped it on the desk, "I've got fucking filing to do."

He sat down and started pulling apart the folder with perhaps more vehemence than was necessary. After a moment, he realized that Jared was still standing there. "What?" he snapped.

"You know what you need?" Jared asked.

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

"You need a way to blow off some steam." Jared cocked his head in invitation. "You want to spar?"

Jensen made an incredulous face. "You can't honestly think that I know how to fight. There's a reason why Jeff decided to make me his secretary. Even if I am hideously overqualified. I'm a desk monkey, Jared."

"So, I'll teach you," Jared said, as if it really was that easy. "You're part of the resistance now, Jensen. Don't you think it would be handy to know how to fend off attackers?"

"If the HQ ever gets attacked, I intend to hide behind all this paperwork," Jensen said. "They'll never find me."

"Jensen," Jared protested. He grinned that damnably infectious grin. "Come on. You need a break. And I'm afraid that we're going to discover that your magic power is setting things on fire with your eyes if I leave you here on your own for much longer."

"Fine," Jensen surrendered with a sigh. "But I'm going to suck at it."

"As long as you suck less when you leave than when we start, it's all good. And either way, it gets you away from your paperwork."

"There is that," Jensen agreed. "You got some workout clothes I can borrow?"

Which was how Jensen found himself in one of the exercise rooms in a too-large pair of basketball shorts, facing off against Jared on a large exercise mat.

"If you kill me, I'm going to be very unhappy with you," Jensen told him.

Jared's grin flashed. "Why do you assume that I'm any good at this myself? I could have two left feet and an inner ear imbalance."

"Somehow I doubt it. So?" Jensen asked. "How do we do this?"

"First, you need to learn how to fall. Come here."

"'Please' is always nice," Jensen said, even as he did as Jared had asked. He was now only a few hand spans away from Jared, which he did his level best to ignore. 

What followed was about 20 minutes of verbal instruction on the proper way to fall after a hit, followed by what felt like a small eternity of being thrown around like a ragdoll. Jared might as well have been a fucking mountain for all the give there was in his stance and, even though Jensen could tell he was being careful, it didn't stop every fall from punching the breath out of his lungs like he'd just run headfirst into a brick wall. His back was one going to be one big bruise by the time they were finished.

"I think that's enough for one day," Jared said finally, while Jensen lay, flushed and panting, on the mat. "Nice work."

Jensen groaned at him. "Is that what you call it? Ugh, I don't think I can move." 

"But do you feel better?" 

"I feel exhausted and sweaty," Jensen said. "Is that an improvement?"

Jared chuckled. "You don't look like you're about to choke someone with a C41 form anymore, so I'd say so, yeah."

Jensen snorted. "Man, I'd choose a 6A Vacation Request form instead. Have you seen the size of that thing? Guaranteed windpipe blockage."

"I'll keep that in mind. Gimme your hand." Jared hauled him up with one fluid pull, then waited until Jensen was steady on his feet before letting go. "Either way, you look more relaxed."

"That's because I can't feel my limbs," Jensen retorted, but he had to admit that he didn't feel strung quite so tight.

Jared grinned, skin gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, and Jensen thought that maybe this sparring stuff wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

The next day, Jensen was rather less sanguine about Jared's technique for releasing frustration.

"Wow," Danneel said, as Jensen hobbled into the mess hall at a speed approximately approaching turtle. "What happened to you?"

Jensen sat down gingerly, wincing as every muscle in his body protested the movement. "Jared decided I needed to learn how to spar."

He was unsurprised when Danneel looked amused. "Did he now? And you agreed, apparently."

"The more fool me," Jensen agreed. He put on a piteous expression. "Any chance you want to get breakfast for me? I'm not sure I can get back up."

A full tray was suddenly set down in front of Jensen.

"It'd do you good to walk more, you know," Jared said, sitting down across from him with his own overfull tray. "Gotta stretch out those muscles or they'll take even longer to get back to normal."

"What are you doing here?" Jensen demanded. "Don't you have a job?"

Jared shook his head. "Saturday," he said, which Jensen had to take his word for. It could be Christmas and he wouldn't know. "Had to stop in for my update; figured I'd see how you were doing."

"Indeed," Danneel said. Her tone was speculative as she added, "seems like you're making a lot of reports these days."

"I'm a conscientious worker," Jared said, without batting an eyelash. "I'm hoping to win Spy of the Month this time. I keep losing out to Chad."

Danneel snorted. "And if I didn't think you were lying before, that would clinch it. Chad? Was that the best you could come up with?"

Jared grinned at her. "I'm going to tell Chad that you have no faith in him. Seriously though, Jensen, how are you feeling?"

Jensen glared at him. "Guess."

"Bet you slept well, though." Jared shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. "It'll be easier next time."

"No way," Jensen said immediately. "I'm not doing that again."

Jared pouted at him. "You can't quit now! No time like the present to learn a valuable new skill!"

"Not a chance," Jensen said, around a mouthful of porridge. "Never again."

He wasn't entirely sure how he went from that emphatic refusal to facing off against Jared again three days later, but Jensen was getting kind of used to having a life that didn't make any sense.

Mostly, he blamed Jared.

Somehow, despite his best intentions, sparring with Jared became part of Jensen's routine. It didn't happen every day, which was good because that might actually have killed him, but Jared stopped by a couple of times a week and badgered him until he gave in. 

Jensen wasn't sure that he'd ever be able to take on anything more dangerous than a store window mannequin, but Jared had at least been telling the truth when he said that it did get better eventually. At least he wasn't black and blue all the time anymore.

"How's it going with Felicia?" Jared asked one day, nearly three months after Jensen had arrived at the HQ, while Jensen was trying to figure out the best line of attack to keep from ending up face-first on the mat in less than three seconds. "Any progress?"

Jensen shook his head. "None," he said shortly. 

"Maybe there's another technique you can use for learning?" Jared suggested.

"Like what?" Jensen demanded. "It's not like there are a lot of ways to tell a fortune that don't involve _telling a fucking fortune_."

Jared held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, sorry. I get your point. Just trying to help."

"Hmph." Jensen circled Jared on the mat. "How do you train?"

"As a Warden?"

Jensen nodded.

"By standing in a room by myself and practicing, to begin with. Once I got better at it, I started practicing with other people." He hesitated briefly. "You want to give it a try?" 

"Like, as part of sparring?"

"I won't hurt you," Jared was quick to promise.

Jensen rolled his eyes. "Did I say you would? Dumbass." He considered for a moment. "How?"

Jared's expression brightened. "Well, you need to come a little closer, first."

"Like this?"

His breath stuttered in his chest when Jared shook his head and took another huge step forward until they were close enough that their chests nearly brushed with every breath. "More like this. Momentum is not your friend against a Warden, trust me."

"Noted," Jensen said, and was relieved when it didn't come out sounding breathless.

"Now come at me," Jared said. "Slowly."

"Slowly?" Jensen smirked at him. "You need time to get ready?"

Jared shook his head. "I don't want to have to listen to you whining if you break your nose by running face first into an invisible wall."

"Hmph," Jensen said, then threw his elbow into a sharp jab aimed at Jared's side.

He felt the pain of the impact before he'd realized that his arm had stopped a solid five inches away from Jared's body. Jared's magic felt as solid as any real wall and Jensen had to be glad for Jared's insistence on close quarters. If he'd had the space to put his body's momentum into that blow, it would have hurt a lot more.

"Are you shielding your whole body?" Jensen asked, leaning his weight harder against the force wall between them. It didn't so much as quiver.

Jared shook his head, only the slight furrowing of his brow betraying the effort he was expending to keep Jensen at bay. "It's a waste of energy if I don't need to. I track your movements and set up small barriers accordingly."

"Right," Jensen said, and dropped into a kick instead.

There was a strange sort of rhythm to it, Jensen decided, after several minutes of him attacking and Jared blocking every blow before it could land. Almost more like dancing than fighting. They were both sheened in sweat, and Jensen was hyperconscious of the way Jared's eyes followed the sway of his body, watching for the next attack. His body was tingling all over where it had connected with Jared's defensive walls, and Jensen could feel his movements becoming tighter, more controlled as he tried to stop telegraphing his intentions.

"Looks like this is good practice for you, too," Jared said, voice only slightly tight. "Keep your elbows in."

Jensen grunted in understanding and adjusted accordingly. Jared's eyes focused on his arms, assessing the correction, and Jensen lashed out with a high kick while he was distracted, bracing himself for the impact.

Only this time there was no resistance and Jensen yelped as he toppled forward, his momentum throwing him off balance.

He fetched up against Jared's chest, which was shaking with the force of the laughter he was trying to suppress.

"Your face!" Jared managed, with barely stifled hilarity.

Jensen growled and shoved a hand into Jared's chest. "You dick! What did you do that…for…?"

The realization of just how close they were caught belatedly up to him at just the wrong moment, and Jensen found himself staring up at Jared, words forgotten.

"Jensen?" Jared asked, his voice hushed and unnaturally quiet after his previous hilarity. "You okay?"

Jensen knew what it meant to be in the opportune moment. He'd made a habit of finding them or making them up wholesale to use in his debriefs but, even in his life, there were some that had occurred all on their own. Take the job. Talk to him. Splurge on the ticket. Et cetera.

The choice was always the same: take it or play it safe.

Looking into Jared's face, Jensen couldn't bear the thought of letting this moment pass. 

Slowly, he lifted his hand from Jared's chest and pressed it against his cheek. The sudden sharp inhale of Jared's breath was like a neon sign welcoming him in and Jensen found himself smiling as he arched up to press their lips together.

It was a gentle kiss, exploratory and rife with potential. One of Jared's hands crept down to encircle his waist and Jensen hummed in contentment, arching into his grip as their tongues tangled lazily.

"Wow," Jared breathed, when they parted.

"This is such a cliché," Jensen sighed. "While sparring? Seriously?"

Jared's grin flashed. "Nah. The real cliché would have been you swooning into my arms after I saved you from certain death at the hands of a corrupt government organization. I must admit, I was most disappointed."

Jensen laughed. "Oh, my mistake. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"I'm good at waiting," was all Jared said, before ducking low to press an open-mouthed kiss against the side of Jensen's neck.

Jensen's strangled inhale would have been embarrassing if he hadn't been so incredibly turned on right now.

"I hope that's not all you're good at," he managed, with what he thought was an impressive amount of sass given the way all the blood in his body was migrating south.

"Only one way to find out," Jared said, low and inviting, and neither of them had much else to say for a long time.

After that, Jensen's life took a turn for the awesome.

He still couldn't see Jared every day - the man had a cover to maintain, after all - but they made the most of the time they did have. They spent long hours in Jensen's room, learning each other by touch and taste, and finding out what made them gasp and come undone. Most of their sparring sessions degenerated into make-out sessions. Danneel managed to be both smug and delighted when she heard the news, and then promptly ensured that the entire HQ knew that they'd finally got their act together.

Jared swore that several people had made money on it, as well, which was just too embarrassing to consider.

When he wasn't with Jared, Jensen could generally be found either practicing in the Teller office - and getting increasingly less optimistic about the whole situation with every new failure - or sitting at his desk outside Jeff's office, being the best fucking secretary the man could have asked for.

It had taken him the better part of a fortnight to get Jeff's files in order and, since then, he'd been responsible for dealing with new information as it came in. Jeff received intelligence from what looked like every branch of the government, most of it encrypted to keep out prying eyes. Jeff told Jensen how he wanted the files sorted, but made it clear that Jensen wasn't to worry about the actual content of the updates he received. Jeff would take care of it.

The thing was that no one with two brain cells to rub together would ever accuse Jensen of being an idiot. All sorts of other unsavory things, perhaps, but not an idiot.

Which meant that Jeff should have known better to assume that he could put Jensen to work as his paper pusher and not expect him to figure things out that might be above his clearance level.

It was the work of an afternoon to figure out how to decode Jeff's system, after which point Jensen made a habit of skimming through all the information that crossed his desk. Most of it was dull and not worth the paper it was printed on, but some of it made Jensen shiver with the realization that the resistance wasn't quite as humanitarian as Jeff and Jared had made it out to be.

He felt his face grow pale when he read the number of casualties in a deliberate car crash, and about the electrical outage that knocked out the hospital's power and caused the death of three patients. A look through the drawer where he was supposed to file these reports revealed years' worth of similar 'accidents', all caused by the rebellion in its efforts to destabilize the government.

Jensen was glad that Jared didn't come by that day.

He should have realized, he supposed. It was naïve to think that there was such a thing as a bloodless coup, and he'd already pegged Jeff as the kind of guy who liked to spout off metaphors about omelets and eggs. Which didn't mean that it came as any less of a shock, but Jensen was starting to get used to those. 

Ultimately, Jensen decided not to confront Jeff about it, although he kept reading all of Jeff's mail regardless. It wasn't like getting into a fight would accomplish anything more than getting him switched from secretarial work to floor sweeping, and he liked the opportunity to be in the loop about the resistance's activities. He also got to feel a smug sense of 'fuck you' towards Jeff every time he read something that was not for his eyes. Served the man right for making Jensen his fucking secretary. 

Which was all well and good until the day the information he received was about Jared.

It was from someone in the President's office, and looked to have been written in a hurry. Jensen's eyes jumped from 'Padalecki' to 'guilty' to 'use of force permitted' and he wondered idly if this was what a panic attack felt like. Pulse racing, he jumped out of his chair and literally ran into Jeff's office, wild-eyed and not caring.

"Jensen?" Jeff asked, looking up from his work to fix him with a curious expression. "What's wrong?"

"It's," Jensen panted around his sudden panic, fighting to get the words out, "Jared. They're going to arrest him. Today."

Jeff's eyes flicked over to the piece of paper that Jensen still had in his hand and a complicated mix of anger and resignation flashed across his face. He sighed and waved a hand. "You'd better come in. Shut the door, please."

"It's a communication from the agent in the President's office," Jensen pressed, letting the door swing shut behind him as he charged forward. "They suspect Jared of being involved in the resistance."

"Yes," Jeff said steadily. "I know."

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" Jensen demanded. "We need to get out there and help him!"

Jeff looked at him for a long moment. "Why don't you sit down?"

"But, Jeff-"

"Now!" Jeff snapped, with a growl of command that had Jensen cringing. He rubbed a hand over his face and, when he spoke again, it was in a carefully controlled voice. "Sit down. Please."

Jensen took a wary seat. "What's going on? We don't have time for this. Jared needs help!"

"Jensen," Jeff said, in a tone that was almost _gentle_. "We can't help him."

"What?" Jensen stared. "But, there's still time-"

"I'm sorry."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But… why?!"

And Jeff sighed. "If you're ever in charge of something, something large and important, you'll learn that sometimes… sacrifices need to be made. Jared's one of our best undercover agents, but I can't risk the safety and security of every other member of this operation by tipping my hand too soon."

"You set him up," Jensen realized. He half-rose out of his chair, fury burning through the fear in his veins. "You son of a bitch, I can't believe-"

"No!" Jeff said sharply. "I've done a lot of things in my life that I can't be proud of, but that's not one of them."

"That man _worships_ you!" Jensen yelled.

"And he knows just as well as I do that you can't win all the time. Look, all they have right now is suspicions, which means-"

"Absolutely fucking nothing and you know it! They'll put him through Extraction, Jeff! Turn Jared into one of those… those-"

Jeff's eyes looked terribly old. "Sometimes, you have to think of the greater good."

Jensen stood up. "No." And again, louder, "No!"

"Jensen," Jeff started, rising, but Jensen was already out the door and running down the hallway, his mind a blur.

"Hey, Jensen," Alona said, obviously surprised, when he careened around the corner leading to the main exit. Her posture straightened as he ran towards her, confused but not on guard, which gave Jensen the opportunity to cold-cock her before she had a chance to see the attack coming.

She went down like a sack of bricks, and Jensen paused just long enough to ease her to the floor before bolting for the door.

"Sorry," he muttered as he fumbled with the door handle. He could apologize properly later.

The door finally opened and Jensen tore through, barely remembering to pull it shut behind him as he went. He burst out of the restaurant and onto the street, careless of the startled glances being thrown his way as he turned in the direction of the Ministry of Future Affairs and started running.

He dodged and weaved through the crowded streets, chest heaving and head buzzing with the frantic need to find Jared and get him out of danger. His costume glasses had been left in his bedroom and he was absolutely certain that every single city clock was tracking his urgent progress through the streets and he could not have cared less. Let them arrest him. Put him through Extraction. Rip away his soul.

Just so long as he got Jared away first.

There was a police car parked outside the Ministry of Future Affairs as Jensen skidded to a stop across the street, chest heaving with exertion. He watched, horrified, as a trio of police officers appeared at the top of the stairs, flanking a tall, familiar figure.

"Jared," he gasped, stricken. 

Jared's face was blank as the police officers escorted him down the steps and into the car. The sound of the door slamming closed behind him was exactly the same as Jensen's heart shattering.

This couldn't be happening. He'd been _happy_. For the first time in his miserable life, he'd actually been happy. And now Jared…

"No," Jensen breathed. It wasn't a yell, was scarcely even loud enough to be considered a sound at all.

Everything stopped.

The world gave a sudden, dizzying wrench and Jensen stumbled, cracking his knees hard against the pavement as he hit the ground. He groaned, hands clutching at his chest, which was burning with a pain he'd never felt before. Everything went white, then black, and Jensen bit his lip bloody to keep from screaming.

Then, suddenly, everything was back to normal, and Jensen nearly died of shock when he realized that Jared was slumped on the ground beside him, looking dazed but otherwise unharmed.

"Jensen?" Jared asked, muzzily. "Wha' happen?"

"I have no idea," Jensen said, wrapping an arm around Jared's waist and hauling for all he was worth. "But we're getting out of here."

Shouts of alarm rose up behind them as Jensen dragged Jared down the street and into the first convenient building he could find. The clock on the wall started to turn their way, and Jensen ducked under its sweeping gaze, praying that it wouldn't catch enough of them to attract attention. A closet loomed in front of them and Jensen hustled them both inside.

"Jared," he hissed.

"Holy shit," Jared said, shaking his head. "I feel like I just got hit by a truck."

"We don't have time for that! We need to find somewhere to lay low until we can get back to HQ. They'll be looking for us. Please tell me that you've got a, a safe house or something."

Jared nodded. "Yeah, we can - Jensen?" he said sharply. "Are you okay?"

But Jensen was too busy passing out to answer.

Jensen woke up in his room.

He blinked at the familiar ceiling for a long moment, mind hazy as he tried to figure out what had happened. His body felt like one big bruise and he wasn't sure he had the energy to lift his own head right now. What the fuck?

"Jensen?" Jared said, and Jensen discovered that he had more strength than he'd thought when he threw himself at his boyfriend and hugged him tightly enough to make his ribs creak.

"You're okay," he breathed, eyes closing with relief. "Thank goodness."

"I'm okay," Jared agreed, hugging him back. "Thanks to you."

Jensen cracked an eye open at that. "To me? What did I do?"

Jared hesitated. "It might be better to let Jeff explain."

The memory of his last meeting with Jeff flashed through Jensen's head and he groaned. "He's going to kill me," he said, letting his head drop to Jared's chest.

"Maybe," Jared agreed, and Jensen never thought he'd be so glad to hear that teasing tone directed at him again. "You think you can walk or should I carry you again?"

Jensen's head jerked up and he stared at Jared's gleeful grin in horror. "You didn't."

"Hey, what else was I supposed to do? You passed out while we were on the run. You should be grateful that I dragged your heavy ass all the way back here."

"There's nothing wrong with my ass," Jensen muttered, then yelped when Jared gave him a playful smack on said ass.

"Definitely not," Jared agreed. He shifted them towards the door. "Lean on me if you need to."

"Why am I so tired?" Jensen asked, as they started a slow shuffle out of the room. "I feel like my legs are made of noodles."

"You used a lot of magic back there," Jared said. The heartiness in his voice sounded decidedly forced. "It's no surprise that you're tired." 

"What?!" Jensen stopped and stared at Jared, sure that his confusion was scrawled all over his face. "Jared, I didn't-"

Jared's smile was gentleness edged with unease. "Jeff will explain everything."

"As if," Jensen said, though he started walking again. "He loves secrets too much to tell anybody _everything_."

"Trust me," Jared said grimly. "This time, he hasn't got a whole lot of choice."

"So," Jeff said, once they were safely ensconced in his office. Jensen was having a hard time meeting his eyes, embarrassed yet not repentant about what he'd done. "Jared told me what happened. As did Alona."

"I'm not sorry," Jensen said, because he wanted to get that out in the open. "Well, I'm sorry I hit Alona, but I'm not sorry that I saved Jared." _Like you should have done_ , his glare said loud and clear. 

Jeff inclined his head, but made no other acknowledgement of the unspoken point. "Regardless of your feelings on the matter, the fact remains that you've put us in a difficult situation. Not only does the government now have definitive proof that we're here-"

"They didn't before?" Jensen asked, and Jared gave him a warning nudge.

"-but it also knows about _you_ , Jensen." Jeff fixed him with a serious look. "Do you know what you did out there?"

"I - not really," Jensen admitted. "Everything happened so fast. There was this weird jolt? And then my chest started hurting and everything went black. And, when I opened my eyes, Jared was with me instead of in the police car."

Jared frowned. "I never got in the police car."

"What?" Jensen blinked at him. "I saw you!"

"I don't know what you saw, but the last thing I remember was having three police officers corner me in reception."

"But, that's-"

Jeff cleared his throat. "If I may? Jensen, it's quite clear that the reason your training with Felicia hasn't been paying off is because you're not a Teller."

Jensen bit back the instinctive 'you think?' on his lips. "Then what am I? Jared said that I used magic there, but that wasn't like any of the types you described."

"No, it wouldn't have been." Jeff took a deep breath and said, in a slightly awed tone of voice, "Because you're an Arbiter."

Jensen frowned. "A what?"

"Arbiters have the ability to reorder reality itself," Jeff said, and Jensen's eyes widened. "Oh yes. That's why you saw Jared outside the Ministry but he doesn't remember it: you changed his fate by taking him out of the building before the police could arrest him."

"There hasn't been a record of an Arbiter in hundreds of years," Jared put in. He smiled ruefully. "To be honest, I didn't even think they were real."

"Oh, they were real." Jeff stood and walked over to the bookcase on the far wall. He selected a large, ancient-looking volume and returned. "Centuries ago, we lived in a world where magic was as ordinary and unremarkable as dirt. And the people in charge of society were all magic users."

He opened the volume and showed Jensen and Jared a drawing of what looked like a courthouse. The figure standing in the middle was dressed all in white and was radiating a pale light.

Jeff tapped the figure. "The Arbiters were the main court of law. It was their responsibility to judge crimes and grievances and, if need be, alter reality to be fair and reasonable."

"And that's what I'm supposed to be?"

"Don't you see, Jensen? Your prophecies never come true because you have the ability to change fate. Fortune telling has no power over a man who can choose to reject his own destiny."

"This is crazy," Jensen said, and prompted a crooked grin from Jeff.

"You say that so often. Here." He closed the book and pushed it towards where Jensen's hands lay on the desk. "Give it a read. You might be surprised by what you learn."

"Do you think that the government knows what Jensen is?" Jared asked.

Jeff nodded. "And if they haven't figured it out yet, they will. Which puts us all in danger."

"I didn't mean to," Jensen protested feebly. 

Jared put a comforting hand on Jensen's shoulder. "So what do we do?" he asked Jeff.

Jeff clasped his hands in front of him on the desk. "We go on the offensive."

Jared nodded, as though this was the answer that he had been expecting. 

Jensen was feeling not nearly so sanguine. "Wait a minute. What happened to building up public sentiment against the government? Slow and steady, you've said."

"The playing field's changed, Jensen. Now that they know what you can do, the government will be willing to tear the city apart to find you. They won't dare risk us making use of your power."

"They'll probably plan a shakedown of the civil service too," Jared put in. He made a face. "The fact that I passed under the radar for so long is going to make them suspicious of their staff. Which would have happened even if I had been arrested," he added, with a calmness that Jensen could hardly credit. "But it's just made everyone's jobs a lot more difficult."

"You're our ace in the hole, Jensen. Anti-government sentiment has been on the rise ever since we started this campaign, but one of the reasons that we've been reluctant to engage in a full-scale attack is that we have reports of a special weapon being created at the President's behest." Jeff's jaw was tight with anger. "A weapon designed specifically to kill magic users."

"What kind of weapon?" Jensen asked, but Jeff shook his head.

"None of our spies have been able to find out conclusively. But with you on our side, we have a way of counteracting it."

Jensen held up a hand. "Woah. Hold up. I don't know _how_ to use my magic, remember? I did it without realizing. And I half-killed myself in the process."

Jeff waved a dismissive hand. "Then you'll train until you can use it consciously. I'll begin preparations for the attack, which will begin in approximately two weeks. Will that be enough time?"

"How should I know?" Jensen burst out. "I don't know how to train this skill!"

"Um," Jared interrupted. He gave Jensen a hopeful smile. "Maybe I can help. It's not like I've got much else to do now that I've been forcibly retired."

"Excellent," Jeff said, before Jensen could respond. "I'll expect regular updates. And could one of you tell Felicia that I want to see her? We need to get a new round of prophecies done stat."

"Got it," Jared said, and dragged Jensen out of the room before he could protest.

"Well," Jensen said, as they left Jeff's office. "That happened."

"It did," Jared agreed. He glanced at Jensen. "You okay?"

"I'll tell you when I stop thinking I'm dreaming."

"I can't believe you hit Alona," Jared said, after a moment.

"You're the one who taught me to throw a punch," Jensen shot back. "You've got no one to blame but yourself."

Jared looked amused. "Not exactly why I was teaching you." He reached out and tangled his fingers with Jensen's. "Thank you, Jensen. You saved my life."

Jensen sighed. "And got us in a whole mess of trouble in the process." 

"Hey." Jared tugged him to a halt and dropped a gentle kiss on his lips. "I mean it. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Jensen said. He coughed around the sudden tightness in his throat and changed the subject. "Now let's go find Felicia already so I can go and collapse somewhere. Seems like I need to get my strength back in a hurry."


	5. Chapter 5

The next few weeks passed in a blur. The HQ spun into buzzing, frenetic life as plans were made and attack strategies were drawn up. Large groups of up-top agents took up residence in the HQ, causing a serious issue in overcrowding. The air was tense with a jumbled mess of adrenaline, fear and excitement.

Jensen honestly didn't know the most of what was going on. He and Jared spent the majority of their time in the same exercise room that they'd always used for sparring, trying to hone Jensen's abilities as an Arbiter. It was slow going, but Jared proved himself to be as patient in this as he was in every other aspect of his life. 

Eventually, Jensen got used to the hot spark of magic somewhere deep in his chest, grew comfortable with the wrenching pull of reality rewriting itself in response to his commands, learned how to struggle through the clinging fatigue that sapped his strength in the aftermath. He discovered - thanks to a single-minded Jared who thought turning a knife on himself was a good idea - that it was easier to tap into his magic when he was emotionally invested in whatever he was trying to change.

All Jensen could hope was that he'd have enough personal investment in not getting killed that it wouldn't take having Jared's life on the line again to fulfill that requirement.

The day of the coup found Jensen at Jared's side in the hallway that led to the surface, dressed in heavy body armour and trying not to let his hands shake too obviously.

"Our goal is to get to the Capitol building," Jared reminded him quietly, as though Jeff hadn't walked them both through the plan a hundred times already. "Not to fight. I'll be with you the whole time. It'll be fine."

Jensen nodded, not trusting his voice. _But I'm just a legal consultant_ , a small voice inside his head protested. _I shouldn't be here!_

"You ready?" Jeff asked, coming up to them. He was likewise dressed in battle gear and, like Jared, he had a gun strapped to his hip. Jensen hadn't had the time to learn how to shoot in addition to figuring out how to Arbitrate, so he'd been able to avoid that.

He probably should have minded more than he did.

"As ready as we'll ever be," Jared answered for both of them. "You think they know we're coming?"

Jeff snorted. "If they don't, those Teller machines of theirs should be turned into scrap metal. You two keep well clear of the fighting. And Jensen," he said, catching Jensen's eyes. "We're counting on you to neutralize whatever weapon it is they've cooked up."

"No pressure," Jensen muttered. 

Jared nudged him. "Jensen."

"I know, I know. I'll do everything I can," he said, and meant it.

When had this become his fight? When he had first kissed Jared? Or when he had been given the choice to run or to stand with them? Or maybe the first time he'd realized that his prophecies were never going to come true and he was doomed if anyone ever found out.

"Good. The units are in place throughout the city and are prepared to move on the hour. Wait for my mark." Jensen and Jared both nodded. Jeff clapped them each on the shoulder. "Good luck," he said, before moving away to talk to some of the other people preparing to go up.

Jensen hooked a hand around the back of Jared's neck and hauled him into a fierce kiss. "Be careful," he murmured, when they drew apart.

Jared's fingers stroked gently down the side of his face. "Same goes for you."

"Everyone in place!" Jeff yelled, and they hurriedly untangled themselves.

Jensen kept his eyes on Jeff, who had his eyes on the clock, counting down the seconds. 

"On my mark… go, go, go!"

The corridor exploded into activity and Jensen found himself having to fight to keep in step with Jared as everyone surged towards the door. They poured en masse out of the restaurant and onto the street, everyone scurrying off in their designated directions to help fight.

The air was full of yelling and the sound of weapons: a sure sign that the government had indeed anticipated their attack. As Jensen stared, a military truck rolled into view and spilled a squadron of soldiers onto the street in front of them.

"Jensen!" Jared's hand wrapped around Jensen's wrist and hauled him to the side just as the soldiers opened fire.

Jensen yelped and ducked as bullets buried themselves in the building, heart pounding double time. Someone screamed on his left, and Jensen glanced over to see Alona clutching at a bloody shoulder even as she threw up a ward to protect herself.

Judging by the stunned looks on the soldiers' faces, they weren't among the members of the government privy to the truth about magic.

"They can take care of themselves!" Jared said. "We have to go!"

Jensen nodded and let Jared tug him away from the battle, towards the Capitol building. 

It was like running through a nightmare. Everywhere Jensen looked, there were signs of the battle raging all around them. The air was thick with screams and the copper tang of blood, and several times they had to change direction to avoid being caught up in a firefight. There were bodies in the road, some military, some resistance, some civilians. Tumbled masonry blocked the way, the uniform yet elegant facades of the buildings turned to pulp by gunfire and magic.

Jensen felt sick to his stomach. Was this what their revolution was to be built on?

"This way!" Jared hollered, and Jensen firmly shunted his worries off to one side. There would be time for recriminations later.

There was a contingent of soldiers standing guard outside the Capitol building, and Jensen and Jared drew to a wary halt.

"Now what?" Jensen asked.

"Maybe I can help," a voice said, and Danneel appeared on Jared's other side, dressed in sleek body armour with her hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, but she appeared otherwise unharmed. "I can get Jensen in if you're willing to play bait," she said to Jared.

"Done," he said immediately.

"Wait, what?" Jensen asked. "That wasn't the plan!"

"Plans change." Jared dropped a kiss on Jensen's cheek and offered him a crooked smile. "I'll join you as soon as I can. I promise."

"Wait-" Jensen started, but Jared was already loping away, head held high and gun in hand. The soldiers took immediate notice, and Jensen tried not to panic when they raised their weapons. Jared could handle it. Jensen knew how powerful his wards were. He'd be fine.

"Come on," Danneel hissed. "We've only got about one minute, so we'd better make it count."

"One minute for-" _what_ , Jensen didn't say, because Danneel chose that moment to grab his hand and the whole world froze in place. "Woah."

"Time Keeper," Danneel said, with a cheeky grin. "Pretty cool, huh? Now, let's move it."

Still holding tightly to his hand, Danneel led the way across the lawn to the Capitol building. Everything else was suspended in time and completely oblivious to their passage.

The space between Jensen's shoulder blades was itching like mad by the time they finally circled around the soldiers and slipped inside the building.

"The President's office is on the top floor," Danneel told him hurriedly. "I'll stay here and help Jared. Go!"

Jensen bit back his instinctive protests and nodded instead. "Be careful," he said.

Danneel laughed. "Well, that's no fun. Good luck."

Her fingers slipped away from his skin and the world burst back into motion, the sudden shift making Jensen briefly dizzy.

Danneel took a deep breath then abruptly vanished, which Jensen supposed was what her magic looked like from the outside. He looked around for the stairs and, upon finding them, took a deep breath of his own before heading off.

The trip up to the President's office was harrowing more for the tension riding high in Jensen's chest than for any difficulty getting past the guards. In fact, Jensen didn't see anyone on his trip, which only served to make him more nervous. Surely there should have been ordinary employees around here somewhere, at the very least?

When Jensen reached the top floor, there wasn't a soul in sight. 

The doors to the office stood open. Inviting.

It was absolutely a trap, but Jensen didn't see that he had a whole lot of options right now. The President had a weapon and everyone was counting on Jensen to make sure it was never used. If the President wanted to meet face to face, then Jensen would have to oblige.

He swallowed hard, mentally touching the fire burning quietly in his chest as reassurance. Then he fisted his hands, raised his chin and marched determinedly through the gaping doors.

The office inside was at once opulent and austere, and Jensen suspected that the carpet cost more than his entire apartment. The space was dominated by a massive desk that gleamed in the sunlight coming through the floor to ceiling windows. The chair behind the desk was empty.

"You must be Jensen," a smooth, urbane voice said, and Jensen whirled to see a gaunt-faced man with dark, swept-back hair standing just behind him. The man's eyes were fixed on Jensen's face with a burning intensity that was immediately familar.

Jensen willed himself to stillness. "President Richings," he said calmly.

"Julian is fine," Richings said with a careless wave. "This isn't the sort of situation where one ought to stand on ceremony."

He glided forward and Jensen tensed, on guard for the first hint of an attack.

"You know," Richings said. "I had thought that Arbiters were extinct."

"Guess that makes me unique," Jensen shot back. "Apparently I've got your government to thank for that."

Richings hummed noncommittally, breezing past a confused Jensen and settling in the chair behind the desk. 

"Shall I tell you a story? It's about a world that was ruled by magic, many, many years ago."

"I've already heard this story," Jensen cut in. "Any chance of moving on to you surrendering?"

Richings' lips curled into a thin smile. "While I'm sure you've heard _a_ story, I rather doubt your friends in the resistance told you the entire story."

Jensen stared at him, tense and unnerved.

"Oh, to you, I'm sure that a world ruled by magic sounds like a wonderful idea. So unfettered, so free." Richings' eyes were dark and intent; Jensen couldn't look away. "Of course, that was only the case for those who could use magic. The ordinary people - people like your family, or your friend Chris - they were seen as less than human. As worthless."

"For many years, this state of affairs continued," Richings said, while a chill stole down Jensen's spine. "With the chaos of magic making a mockery of the values they claimed to be upholding. Until one day, it became too much to bear, and the people rose up against their magic-wielding overlords. It was a gruesome conflict and many ordinary people were killed by the very people who'd been put in place to protect them. But, finally, the need for freedom and equality won the day and the normal people prevailed. And they removed all the magic users from power and put in a new government, built on logic and reason."

"And paperwork?" Jensen suggested, making his tone as dry as he could.

Richings smiled approvingly. "No society can function without paperwork. You, of all people, must be able to appreciate that."

"How can you think this is better?" Jensen demanded. "You've just traded one set of overlords for another! Or do you think that people who are born with magic deserve to suffer? They didn't choose it!"

"It is regretful what must be done in the name of the common good," Richings said, an agreement that was anything but. "Chaos is the enemy, Jensen, don't you see? There's nothing safe about a society that allows chaotic elements like magic users free reign. And perhaps that means that a few people suffer for the sake of order-"

"You disappear people!"

"Reallocate them," Richings said soothingly, as though that was better. "Just a few people every year - isn't that worth the health and happiness of an entire country?"

"No," Jensen said, though even he couldn't have said whether he was answering the question or rejecting the entire idea. "Everybody has the right to live."

"And of course that's what your rebellion is all about," Richings said, with suspect lightness. "Fairness and equality. Not a return to the old ways where magic equals power."

"That's not-" Jensen started, only to falter when he realized that he didn't actually know what the end goal was. Not in so much detail.

"I rather think you should have asked more questions before throwing your lot in with the likes of Jeff Morgan. They must have been delighted to find you," Richings continued, in that same mild, reasonable tone that was fucking with Jensen's brain. "An unbeatable weapon in the coup, naturally, and then, well! You'll be so much more use to them afterwards."

Jensen didn't want to hear this. "What do you mean?"

"Jensen, Jensen, Jensen," Richings sighed, shaking his head. "You have the power to change the very fabric of reality. You can be judge and jury against every man, woman and child in the country, and there's nothing anyone could do to stop you. Think about it, son! What do you think they're going to do with you after this little coup is over with? Do you really want to give a man like Jeff Morgan that power?"

"No one can make me do anything," Jensen said.

Richings' look was almost pitying. "Oh, I rather think they can. It doesn't even need to be by force. You're a principled man; I can see that. What's to stop Morgan from laying the guilt on until you do what he wants? You've already joined a rebellion after an entire life of good behaviour. What happens when they convince you that you're doing the right thing by controlling people's lives?"

Jensen stared at him, not sure how to answer.

"Oh, Jensen," Richings said, with grandfatherly gentleness. "This is why magic is dangerous. The people who possess it are only human. And it's the people who control _them_ who are the real threat."

"Big talk from the guy with the most to lose in this situation."

"You're out of your comfort zone; I understand. But what you need to understand is that you're handing Morgan an unlimited power and he's going to use it to corrupt you."

"No, he won't," a very welcome voice said, and Jensen felt Jared step up at his side. "Because I won't let him."

"Ah, Jared," Richings said. His eyes fell to the way Jared's arm was pressed up against Jensen's, and comprehension swept across his face. "Well now. That does answer some questions. Aren't Spring-Summer romances delightful?"

"That's none of your business." Jared was caked with dirt and blood, and his gun was missing, but he showed no desire to back down from Richings' unsettling stare. "I'm sure you know what we're here for."

"Mmm," Richings said agreeably, and leaned over to open the top drawer of his desk.

Jensen tensed, nerves drawn taut.

"I'm assuming it's this." He sat back and Jensen saw a slim vial in his hand, full of a colourless liquid. "It's a pathogen," he said, in response to whatever expressions were on their faces. "Designed to kill anyone who carries the gene for magic."

The blood drained from Jensen's face.

"What?" Jared demanded.

"Isn't progress a funny thing?" Richings twirled the vial between his long fingers, eyes fixed on the fluid tumbling around inside. "The first piece of technology we've created that is completely free of the taint of magic, and it's designed to remove that taint permanently."

"But your whole society is built on magic-based technology!" Jensen exclaimed. "The Tellers! The clocks! The force walls! If you kill all the magic users-"

"We'll have to find a new way forward," Richings finished, not sounding particularly perturbed by the idea. He shrugged fluidly. "That's what life is. Morgan, are you quite finished lurking in the shadows?" he asked then. "It's dreadfully rude."

"Richings," Jeff said, striding into the room. "It's over."

Richings smiled thinly. "I sincerely hope you don't think that it's going to be that easy, Morgan. I'm not about to let a man like you take my place."

"A man like me, huh?" Jeff kept stalking forwards, a predator's intent in every step. "And what kind of man am I, you murderous bastard?"

Richings' eyes flashed fire. "You're a danger to the very world you say you're trying to create. You're hungry for power and you're willing to do whatever it takes to get it."

Jeff bared his teeth in something that looked more like a snarl than a smile. "Reminds me of someone else in this room."

Richings stood abruptly; Jensen let his magic surge up inside him, eyes trained on that vial.

"You have no faith in mankind," Richings said. "And so you corrupt it."

"You're right," Jeff said unexpectedly. "I'm not the one who should be in charge of this new government. I'm too wary, too jaded." He lifted his gun and pointed it directly at Richings' chest. "But you shouldn't be either."

The sound of the bullet ricocheted through the air, and Jensen gasped when Richings dodged out of the way, faster and more fluid than Jensen had expected him to be able to move. Jeff aimed again and Richings vaulted across the table to strike at Jeff.

They went down in a tumble of limbs before springing quickly to their feet and lunging for each other.

Jensen watched, heart in his throat, as they traded blows back and forth, far faster and more brutal than anything Jared had showed him. He tried to keep his attention on the vial in Richings' hand, but they were moving too fast for him to manage it.

The gun barked again and Jensen jumped when one of the windows shattered in response. Another shot and it was Jensen and Jared's turn to duck out of the way. 

The scuffle dragged across the floor, neither man able to get the upper hand. Then the gun went spinning through the air at the same instant as Richings broke free, stumbling back towards the window, his hair hanging in his eyes and one of his arms hanging limp.

"Enough!" he roared, all the more terrifying for the fact that it was the first time he'd raised his voice. His right hand stretched over his head, balled into a fist.

"The vial!" Jensen shouted.

Jeff roared and launched himself at Richings, catching the man round the waist and driving them both back.

Right towards the broken window.

They teetered on the ledge for a heartbeat, and then Richings' voice escaped in a breathless laugh and his hand opened-

-to reveal absolutely nothing.

And Jensen would swear to his death that the man looked right at him with a smile in the fraction of a second before gravity took hold and he and Jeff tumbled headlong out the window.

Their screams were going to haunt Jensen's nightmares for years. Though not as much as the moment when the screaming came to an abrupt halt.

There was a moment of long, shocked silence.

"You didn't do that," Jared said finally, sounding shaken.

"Thank you for not making that a question," Jensen said, more genuinely than he tried to make it sound. "And no, I didn't."

On some unspoken agreement, they walked together towards the window, skirting around the damage that the fight had done to the furniture. Jensen stopped a hand's breath away from the window.

"I can't," he said, and then, "careful, idiot!" when Jared leaned over the edge to take a look.

"I threw up a ward," Jared said. "There's nothing to worry about." He looked down and Jensen watched his body still.

"Are they-?" he asked, even though the answer was obvious. Unless Richings had been hiding a pair of skeletal wings underneath that suit, there was no way they could have survived.

Jared nodded tightly. "Yeah," was all he said. He stepped back, away from the window, and Jensen didn't stop himself from grabbing Jared's arm.

"Shit. Is it - does that mean it's over?"

"Well," Jared started, only to have the word cut off when the door banged open and a trio of soldiers burst in. Jared's arm turned to iron under Jensen's fingers and he knew without having to ask that there would be a ward in front of them that was hard enough to shatter diamond.

Jensen drew himself up to his full height, digging around inside himself for the burn of magic. Whatever was about to happen, he was going to make sure it didn't involve any more death.

"The armed forces and the government have surrendered to your forces," the woman in front said, which Jensen had absolutely not been expecting. "The interim leaders of both sides are currently in the board room." She looked at Jensen. "They've asked you to be present as a mediator."

"Me?" Jensen shared a quick, startled glance with Jared. "Why me?"

"The, ah, resistance forces believe it would be beneficial, given your-"

"Ability?" Jared suggested, while the woman staggered around for a word besides 'magic'. "Aren't your bosses worried about that giving our side the advantage?"

She shook her head. "President Richings gave a similar order previously."

Jensen's eyes darted without his permission towards the window, thinking of the man who'd stood in front of it and talked of order and chaos a bare half hour ago. Perhaps he had seen the value of change, after all.

"Alright," Jensen said. "I'm ready. Lead on."

"You ready for this?" Jared asked in an undertone.

"No," Jensen admitted. When Jared's hand snuck into his own, he didn't even consider protesting. "But that seems to be the order of the day."

Jared grinned. "Thatta boy. Let's go broker a peace treaty, shall we?"

"Let's shall."

Behind them, safely on the desk, a single vial glinted innocuously in the light.

_Six months later_

Coups, Jensen decided, created entirely too much paperwork.

"You know," Jared's voice said, and Jensen looked up to find the man striding into his office with a sheaf of paper in one hand and a beaming grin on his face. "We really need to talk about this hard-on you have for paperwork."

"You kidding?" Jensen asked, most of his attention on the latest draft of the policy reform he was working on. "If paperwork got me horny, you'd get laid a hell of a lot more often. I can't imagine you'd complain."

Not that Jared didn't get laid on an awfully regular basis already, mind. Honestly, Jensen didn't think they had the time to get it on any more often than they currently did.

Jared sighed. "That is a shame. Chris would probably cut my balls off if he thought we were having sex every time I came in here."

When Chris found out that Jensen was alive, he hugged him hard enough to make him squeak, then punched him in the face. 

When he met Jared, he threatened to dismember him if he hurt Jensen. It was nice to have friends who cared.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Jensen asked. "I thought you had a proper job these days."

Jared sniffed haughtily. "I always had a proper job. Technically, I had two. Until you got me fired."

"Sure, Jared. If that's what it takes for you to sleep through the night. Stop getting me off track. Why. Are. You. Here?" 

"Because I finally found it."

"Congratulations," Jensen said, as Jared stopped in front of his desk, beaming from ear to ear. "I'm very happy for you. What have you found?"

In answer, Jared slapped a sheaf of paper down on top of Jensen's work. "It was a car accident," he said.

Jensen sighed. "One day, we're going to get the hang of how conversations work," he said. "I have faith in us."

Jared stuck his tongue out at him.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Shut up and listen." Jared flattened his hand over the stack of papers, neatly preventing Jensen from being able to read any of it. "Your death prophecy. It was supposed to be a car accident."

Jensen frowned. "I wasn't in any car accidents." He tugged the papers out from under Jared's fingers and flipped through them curiously. 

"But you were _supposed_ to be. That's why so many people with no magic ability also had prophecies that didn't come true: they were meant to be caught up in an accident that you prevented without realizing."

"But shouldn’t someone have noticed if we were all in the same place at the same time? I mean, isn't that the sort of connection that you guys were looking for?"

"But you weren't exactly. See?" Jared flipped through the pages to a series of hand drawn diagrams that were presumably meant to depict a city street.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. "I've met clods of dirt that could draw a better car."

Jared swatted him. "Don't exaggerate. It's not sexy. Ahem. This is you here, on the bus-"

"If you needed a ruler to help you draw stick men, all you had to do was ask. I have one you could have borrowed."

"You're supremely unfunny, I hope you know that."

"We're gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, I bet."

"Anyway. The reason no one made the connection is because it's not just people in the bus who would have died, or them and the car that would have hit it." Jared tapped at a terrible rendering of a blue van. "It looks like it would have been a doozy of an accident - a lot of vehicles would have been involved. And, as far as I can tell, some of the casualties would probably have been pedestrians; none of them were registered to cars at that time."

Jared produced another ugly drawing, this one showing the extent of the damage that the crash would have caused. Jensen looked at it and whistled.

"Yikes. Looks like it was a good thing me and my magic power I didn't know how to use were in the neighbourhood. This would have been nasty."

"Yeah," Jared said, sounding a little subdued.

"Have you been looking for this since my birthday?" Jensen asked. "It's really not that important."

Jared shrugged, a little awkwardly. "I wanted to know. If it weren't for that prophecy, the government never would have caught on to you. And we, we would probably never have met."

"Sap," Jensen said, but paused when he finally recognized the emotion on Jared's face: guilt. "What is it?" 

"It was us."

Jensen blinked at him. "Care to try that once more and actually make sense?"

Jared ran a hand through his hair. "The accident. I went back through Jeff's records. We planned that accident. Nobody noticed because, well-" he waved at Jensen, who made a face at him, "-y'know, but it was still on file. If it wasn't for you, we would have killed all those people."

"Hey," Jensen said, rounding his desk and wrapping Jared up in a hug. Jared clung to him, so far removed from the gregarious, dauntless undercover agent that Jensen could hardly fathom it. The last six months had changed all of them. "Nobody got hurt, okay?"

"But they should have been," Jared said, in a small voice.

"But they weren't. And you were doing what you thought was best. You all were." Jensen paused. "Even Jeff. And sometimes you really do have to make hard decisions for the greater good."

Jared's arms tightened, and Jensen knew that they were both thinking of a broken window and the echoing horror of twin screams still rattling in the air. "How do we know they're the right decisions to make?" 

Jensen shrugged awkwardly. "Wait and see, I guess. And be willing to try and fix it if they're the wrong ones."

"When did you get so wise?" Jared lifted his head, fond smile firmly in place. Jensen could tell that the moment of vulnerability was over. 

"I've always been wise. You just weren't paying attention." Jensen let Jared go, not at all reluctantly, and returned to his chair. He looked at the mess of paper all over his desk - the norm, these days - and stifled a sigh.

"How you holding up?" Jared asked. He nudged a stack of books aside with his hip and sat on the edge of the desk. "You've been go, go, go for days."

Jensen waved a hand at the draft on his desk. "This one's going in for secondary negotiation in a couple days and I need to get the draft finished so the review committee can look it over ahead of time."

Jared shook his head. "This rebuilding a government thing is more complicated than I thought."

"Really? It's exactly as complicated as I figured it'd be. Remind me which of us has been working towards this for years?"

"Smart ass. Seriously, though. You've taken a lot of responsibility on with this. With not a lot of recognition, either."

"I'm good at this stuff," Jensen said, a little awkwardly. "And the people we've got hammering out the laws are better at it than I would be."

It wasn't a perfect system by any stretch of the imagination. There was a great deal of suspicion and fear held by a lot of the population against magic users. People were slow to come forward with magic abilities. The new government - which was a mix of employees from the former government and members of the resistance - seemed to be torn between creating a system that required even more paperwork than the last one had or encouraging everyone to run off into the wilderness and give up on civilization entirely. 

No one could decide what to do with the government employees who'd gone through Extraction. They couldn't return their magic to them - it had all been consumed by the machines that had relied on it - and so they would be soulless automatons for the rest of their lives. Particularly well suited to working for the government, some pointed out caustically, and what else could they do with them? Kill them? Put them in homes?

Jensen was very carefully staying out of as much as he could, lest he be accused of changing fate to suit his own purposes.

"It's early days yet," Jared said. "Better to take the time now and get things sorted out properly so that things work better in the long run."

Jensen sighed. "I know. It just seems like all we've done is create chaos."

"You ever cleaned a messy room? You have to make twice as much chaos to make sure that there's room to put things back where they belong."

"Thank you for that stunning analogy, Jared, what _would_ I do without you?"

Jared grinned. "Drown in paperwork, unnoticed and unloved probably. You ready for lunch?"

Jensen blinked at the clock. It didn't blink back at him, which he could only see as an improvement. "I hadn't realized it was so late."

"And, we're back to your disturbing obsession with paperwork."

"Hey," Jensen protested, marking his place on the page before standing. "I'm creating a new world, here."

"I know," Jared said. He leaned in for a kiss and, when he pulled back, his eyes were shining. "And I can't think of anyone else I'd trust to do it more."

~fin

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you first and foremost to ldyghst, who chose my crazy little story for this challenge and made some absolutely lovely art for it. Despite the terrible first draft she read, ldyghst was able to create a very distinct and stylish feel for her art that complements this story more than I ever could have hoped for. She was also hella patient with me when things weren't finished on time, which I very much appreciate. Please head over to her [Art Post](http://ldyghst.livejournal.com/227871.html) and let her know how fabulous her art is!
> 
> Dugindeep always deserves love, booze and chocolates from me when it comes to her awesomeness at brainstorming and sprinting. This year, I have to give her especial thanks for stepping in as a much-needed zero-hour beta. Don't know what I'd do without you, hon! (Fail miserably, most likely). Any inability to use the English language that still remains is totally my bad.
> 
> And finally, hooray for wendy for hosting this challenge year after year! You're awesome!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this story!


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